


Speak of Grace

by t0bemadeofglass



Series: These Choices Seal Our Fate [3]
Category: Marvel (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Altered Backstory, Alternate Universe - Asgard, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Fushion, Character Death, Complete, Drama, F/F, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Multiple Pairings, Mythology References, Norse Mythology Divergence, Original Characters - Freeform, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Build, Threesome - F/M/M, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-06
Updated: 2015-05-08
Packaged: 2018-01-23 17:30:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 55,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1573886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/t0bemadeofglass/pseuds/t0bemadeofglass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Midgard is gone, cracked in half and lost to the pages of the history books and the memories of those lucky enough to have survived it, having escaped to Asgard and Vanaheim in time.  Though the Skrull have been defeated, Thanos still looms in the distance, growing more powerful than ever as forces many thought long gone begin to rise from the ashes, their mouths watering and teeth sharp, ready to sink their teeth into the golden city of Asgard.  With no home left, and no family save the one she’d created herself, Natasha’s not about to give up what little she has left without a fight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. And The World Was Gone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! We are now beginning the third, and final, piece of this trilogy that Jessy was an absolute darling enough to inspire me to write. If you're new to this, well, I highly recommend taking a look at Better Not to Breathe Than to Breathe A Lie, as well as Consign Me Not To Darkness before endeavoring to read this, otherwise it just might not make sense.  
> As ever--thank you all a million for reading, for sticking with me till this point, and I hope you enjoy! You're all the very, very best.

As with every civilization that came before, that had suffered and lost, that was bitter and determined not to fade into the back pages of the history books as nothing more than a memory, those who remained rebuilt.  They continued on, the mortals too proud to give up so easily, and the Aesir doing all they could to offer their help.  Splitting between both Asgard and Vanaheim, Loki and Thor oversaw the opening of new ports between the realms so that those with family on one realm or another could visit quicker, and Natasha worked with Sif and Steve to train those who had remained behind.  In taking on the Skrull they’d lost many Asgardian soldiers, and with the threat of Thanos looming over Nat’s head, a wicked blade of vengeance and despair, she was all too eager to be as prepared as she could manage.  Those who stayed behind, human, mutant, and Aesir, were all too willing to learn, and as Tony and Bruce had assimilated into the culture the weapons that they were all given to train with were becoming better crafted, combinations of human engineering ingenuity and the magic the Aesir had so long taken for granted, the two meshing to everyone’s surprise.  Tony was all too glad to make use of the magic that had once been denied he and the others of Midgard, the ancient arts having been guarded heavily and kept away in the Allfather’s fear of them being used against his people should the Midgardians have tried to take control of their planet once more.  

Though she often all but fell into bed in the evenings from exhaustion, the training, the new weapons, everything helped take Natasha’s mind off of what had happened, off of the nightmares that fueled her every evening, the Titan’s bright eyes seeking her out even when she was safely nestled between the two men she loved, finding her and picking her apart piece by piece until she woke up shivering and screaming, Loki’s arms wrapping tight around her as he held her through the worst of it, Thor reaching for the knife he now kept underneath the pillow, brandishing it at shadows and wind, those constant companions to the nightmares that plagued them all.  Though neither of the men had as violent of fits as Natasha seemed prone to, they both suffered as she had, preferring to do it silently rather than wake the castle with their panicked shouts.  She sometimes woke, after having fallen back into a less than restful sleep, to see Loki already having risen hours before they did, the heavy bags beneath his eyes only deepening as time went on.  Thor, too, looked more and more exhausted as time wore on, the odd calm sinking into their bones until paranoia became as close a friend as fear, not just for themselves but those who they now claimed sovereignty over.  

Thor was crowned a week after the Allfather’s death and the destruction of Midgard, the celebrations understandably muted as they held a vigil not only to the honor and memory of Odin but also all who had fallen and been lost in the tragedies.  Nat was certain it would go on forever, holding Loki’s hand tight in her own throughout the naming ceremony, keeping him as steady as he and Thor did her, drawing strength from their presence as she blinked back tears.  The ceremony would serve, she supposed, and did her best to commit to memory those she’d been familiar with losing.  They would be avenged, she promised herself.  Each of them would be avenged, if she had to take it out on Thanos’ flesh herself.  That, she told herself as she drank deep swallows of ale that evening, the toasting to the victorious, remembered dead going on even longer than the damn ceremony itself, would be no hardship for her.  

It was Thanos’ turn to be afraid, having taken everything from the humans, and given the Asgardians, and all those protected under them, a banner to rally under.  

  


“You’ve nearly got it,” Natasha said, an encouraging smile on her face as she wiped her brow of sweat, having thrown her opponent’s weapon to the ground not moments ago.  The young girl was red-faced and sweating, huffing quietly as she moved on silent feet to grab her fallen sword, pushing a piece of brown hair out of her eyes.  

“I’m not used to fighting with a sword.  Usually I just pass right through the guy and drag him into the ground,” Kitty muttered, twirling the sword in her hand, the movement a little clumsy but getting better.  It was certainly a far shot from where she’d been not a few weeks before, having complained of her arms being sore after holding the blade for more than a few minutes.  Nat allowed her smile to turn indulgent as she tipped her own sword against Kitty’s, meaning to flip it out of the girl’s hold.  She kept a strong grip on it this time, though, twisting it now to parry Natasha’s own advancement, the scratch of metal on metal ringing in the almost empty training yard.  The others had yet to rise, the sun only having made its way above the horizon line half an hour or so ago, the women having trained in the first lights of the day.  The only others kept far enough back to remain out of reach, Xavier and Erik silent in one another’s company, and Kitty and Natasha let them stay there as they entered another round, Kitty immediately putting Natasha on the defensive as she began to lunge her way closer.  She moved quick as any Asgardian, light footed and so silent it begged the question whether or not Natasha was fighting against a ghost, but her sword hand was still clumsy, and she still had trouble with the balance.  More than once Kitty allowed her guard to be dropped in favor of aiming a high kick at Natasha’s face or throat, and though Nat would always dodge out of the way she was certain not every foe of Kitty’s would be so lucky.  

Shadowcat they called her, Natasha mused, as the girl slipped through the ground and popped up behind her, Nat barely managing to jump and avoid the low-sweeping kick that would’ve knocked her legs out from under her had she not been so keen to pick up on the girl’s heavy breathing.  She slipped the blade closer to the girl, but it wasn’t the girl she was seeing, but the metal man that she’d faced against on Earth, whose eyes had gone blank as he looked up at her.  Her sword fell to the side, Kitty’s hand having kicked the loose weapon from her grip, and Natasha was soon to fall down as well, the ground harsh as it came crashing to meet her head.  

“Sorry!”  The young girl said quickly, her eyes blowing wide and her hand rising to cover her mouth, before the second stretched out to help her.  Nat took it with a quiet thanks, though her palm felt clammy in comparison to Kitty’s own warm one, and she was certain the trembling that she had to tamp down on had little to do with the strain of her muscles keeping her up, and more to do with the fact that every time she shut her eyes all she could see were the dead faces of those she’d lost, whether intentionally or by accident.  All of them.  They’d depended on her to keep them safe, she’d sworn she’d keep Thor in line.  That she’d end it.  

“Are you alright?”  Kitty asked, her brow pulled tight as she looked up at the girl in concern.  Nat wasn’t sure how long she’d been staring at the same flat stretch of ground, and so quickly looked up and nodded.  

“Yeah, I’m fine.  Really good job, Kitty.  Really good.  I think that’ll be it for today if you don’t mind.”

“Oh, sure.  Yeah, thanks for meeting me so early and everything.”  The young girl pulled away and gave a half smile, holding herself tight.  It hadn’t been easy for her, adjusting, Nat had figured.  She’d seen the way the girl had listlessly wandered the halls the first few days after the small council had been disbanded.  She’d tried to engage her in as much as she could, but with Nat’s own schedule having been full with trying to assimilate the rest of the humans and Aesir who’d been displaced with the new influx of guests to the realm, she hadn’t been able to do much to offer any help.  Now at least Kitty seemed to think she had a purpose, and Nat was grateful that she’d managed to at least help someone.  The two parted ways with little else said between them, Nat snagging both of the swords before she looked up to see Xavier having made his way closer to the two of them, Erik gone.  

“Professor,” Nat said, dipping her head sa she forced herself to smile, slipping one of the swords into the sheath at her side.  She refused to go without at least one weapon, though she was packing several at the moment, many of them small enough that they hardly made a difference even after she’d strapped the knives onto her thighs or back, and they all hid easily enough when she assumed the gowns expected of her as a woman of court.  There were some traditions that had to be upheld, she’d reminded herself every morning when dressing in the flowing robes and constricting metal bustiers of the land, and it was a small sacrifice on her behalf she supposed.  

“Lady Natasha,” the man inclined his head slightly.  “Can we take a moment?”  

Oh.  She hadn’t been expecting that.  After they’d decided on Vanaheim she’d assumed that Xavier would’ve left with some of the others who were unwilling or unable to fight, assumed his place would’ve been where he could help rebuild, such as his friend Hank had done, the blue furred man explaining he was far more of a thinker and helper than a fighter.  She hadn’t blamed him, though she’d wished she’d been able to go with him to Vanaheim, if only to see the reactions of the Vanir who caught a glimpse of him.  

There was just no fitting in, she supposed, sometimes.  

Xavier started down the path leading alongside the training grounds, which were now slowly beginning to fill up with the same recruits she’d seen Sif and Steve put through their paces right alongside Asgard’s own guard.  Nat took her place behind him, pushing him gently along the beaten track where she and Steve had ran when they’d first been soldiers, freshly taken from Midgard to be the newest members of Asgard’s armies.  She shivered at the memories.  It seemed a lifetime ago.  

“This is where you started, is it not?” Xavier asked, his voice light, bright as the slow rising sun, his eyes never needing to rise for her to know that she had his full attention, and she was reminded that he could read minds.  

She nodded.  “Yes.  Not all that long ago, though it feels that way,” she said with a small, humorless smile.  “Hard to believe it.  There was once a time when ten years would pass in a month here.  I had been gone from Midgard for seventy years, but it was only seven months here.”  She murmured.  The terror had been so pronounced then, when she’d found out just how much she’d missed, that everyone she’d ever loved had died while she’d been trained by the enemy, brought into the fold and into the beds of both princes.  Eight months it’d been now, and there she was, married, and trying to figure out the best way to keep her second home from being destroyed.  It was enough to make her head turn even without Xavier’s questions, which seemed to never end, asking about what she’d done when she’d been first taken, how she’d been trained, what had happened when she’d found out about what had happened.  She couldn’t help but wonder why the hell he didn’t bother just reading her mind if he had so many questions, as concentrating on the past wasn’t one of her favorite pastimes, especially not when they had a war to plan as it was.  

“I’m sorry, I know this all seems rather trite,” Xavier said finally.  “I simply wonder if we’re going about this in the correct direction.  Planning for Thanos.  If the methods which you have described to me are similar to what you are currently putting the new soldiers through, then it serves to reason he’ll be anticipating a battle.”

“I don’t know if he’s anticipating anything,” she said dryly.  “I’ll have to ask him the next time he pops over for tea.”  

Xavier pulled away from her, turning his chair around to stare, suddenly very serious, at her.  Her mouth went dry, all sense of words and language disappearing as she stared down at him.  He beckoned her closer, and, swallowing thickly, she bent over slightly to stand just a little bit closer.  

“This is not a joke, Natasha,” he said, and there was a strange edge to his words that she was unfamiliar with.  Every other dealing with the professor she’d had had been a lighter affair, reminiscent to when they’d first begun talking.  Now, staring into the deep blue eyes of the older man in front of her a very inhuman chill spread up her spine.  Why did she have the feeling that he was taking her apart piece by piece, observing her, then slowly putting her back together in a different order than he’d first found her?  “I know you mean well but you have not taken into consideration what it means that you are getting these people ready to militarize.  We do not know where to find Thanos, where to attack him and hurt him most.  Is this not what you have assured us?”

She nodded her head, not quite trusting herself to speak, not just then.  She wondered why he bothered with questions when he could just as easily have jumped right to the point.  

“Then would it not be the smarter option to plan counter attacks?  It is only logical that the titan will attack Vanaheim, where he thinks us to be weakest.  Perhaps we ought to have a faction of soldiers sent there in order to maintain the peace and keep them safe?  More than that, perhaps you are wasting your time in teaching my people how to fight with swords and spears and shields.  The enemy will not be using those weapons, will he?”

“I don’t know,” Natasha said, her lips pulling tight.  “I’m teaching them what I know best.  Steve and Sif are doing the exact same.  I couldn’t ask them for anything else, especially when they do not have any further power.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to take it upon yourself, I know you are far busier than you are used to.”  Xavier said.  “I am asking, however, to open up my institute before, and make it mandatory that the others attend, to learn how to work as a cohesive group should the worst happen.”

“I’m not going to make anyone fight who doesn’t want to,” Natasha said, voice sudden as she pulled away from him, crossing her arms over her chest.  “Nothing’s going to change that.  You force people to fight and you’ll looking at a higher possibility of desertion, which means it won’t matter what fancy maneuvers or tricks you can teach them because they’ll be as far away as they can possibly get before Thanos gets anywhere near to them.  You’re more than welcome to start up your school again, Xavier.  But I'm not forcing anyone to do anything.”

“Like you were forced to, you mean?” Xavier asked, his eyes narrowing as he sat back further in his chair, his hands resting on the wheels of his chair, knuckles white.  He wasn’t happy with her, she didn’t need to read his mind in order to tell that, but what else was she supposed to say?  She had a line she’d drawn when she’d first started thinking about training.  There was no crossing it, not then, not ever.  

If it killed them all then she’d go down bringing as many of Thanos’ men down with her as she could, and that would be that.  They’d all die together if it came to it.  

Xavier paused, considering her for a moment, before he released the tight grip on his wheels and laced his hands together in his lap. “You think you’re very brave, don’t you?  Wanting to stand and fight until you die?”  He murmured, and something about the way he spoke sounded melancholy, as though he were a hundred years older than he really was, had seen more than he’d thought.  “Haven’t enough died because of your bravery and your desire to do what you saw right?  Perhaps let someone else take the chance that they may be correct.”

Ah.  So that’s where it came from, she supposed, as the pieces finally clicked together.  She allowed herself a humorless smile, her cheeks aching with the strain of it.  How long had it been since she’d managed a genuine one?  “You’ve been talking to Erik a lot, haven't you?”

“Whether I have or have not is not important at the moment--.”

“He’s telling you he’s not happy with what’s been going on, that he wants to militarize you all.  Charles you know that won’t end well,” Natasha said simply, her voice growing soft with sympathy.  They wanted so badly for it all to be over, for the to somehow get some semblance of vengeance for the atrocities Thor had been forced to commit.  She understood.  She empathized.  But sending mutants to be massacred would get nothing done except to dwindle their already pathetic numbers, and that she would not sit by and let happen.  Even if Thor and Loki did manage to get the treaties with Alfheim and Jotunheim, would there be enough?  She’d only heard the same rumors that Thor and Loki had about the Titan’s strength, about the Other and his army of Chitauri that he commanded that would follow the Titan into battle.  

And if rumors were true, if Thanos had promised vengeance to the Dark Elves that had been awakened upon the destruction of Midgard--.  

She allowed for none of this to show on her face, good enough at keeping her thoughts well in check that she doubted if the change in them even registered to him.  She hoped, for her sake and his sanity and belief in her own strength, that he remained oblivious.  “You have to trust me, have to trust us.  If any of us are to make it through these difficult times it will be through banding together, right?  If we fall apart, any of us, then we’re all doomed.”  

His expression soured for the briefest of moments, as though taken aback that she was lecturing him, as though he ought to have been doing it instead.  The displeasure faded a moment later, the professor suddenly looking very tired and very old.  She felt her heart go out for him, knowing all too well that it couldn't have been easy for him to have asked her such a thing, and she extended a hand to reach out to his shoulder.  

“I’m sorry.  I’m sorry for everything that’s happened,” she said, voice soft as she crouched so he wouldn’t have to strain to look up at her anymore, all but willing him to feel the agony she put herself through every damn day she had to look out the window and know that people were suffering because of her.  Because she hadn’t been fast enough, because she hadn’t spoken loudly enough about Thor not going down to Midgard, because she’d possibly pushed him away with her own marriage.  The excuses she made to blame herself seemed as endless as her guilt, threatening to wash her away if she didn’t hold fast to the possibility that a greater day would come from this suffering and this hardship.  “And I promise you we are doing everything that is possible to make this as safe as possible.  For everyone.  But I need your trust, Charles.  I can’t do it without your support, yours and Erik’s, and you can tell him that as well.”  

  


There was little to be said from there, and after Natasha had brought Xavier back into the castle she’d carried on towards her own shared bedroom, sure she’d find it empty, the other two likely having either gone down to breakfast or else disappeared to work out further treaties.  They were both working themselves as hard as they could, preserving what peace and cultivating further growth between realms as quickly as they could, and for once she was grateful for the peace of the empty bedroom.  The tub was already filled with hot water, a courtesy of the serving staff that Natasha would be forever grateful for, and after stripping from her sweat stained training clothing she sank past the once solid surface, keeping a dagger within arm’s reach.  Just in case.  

The heat worked nearly as well on her tense muscles as Loki’s expert hands, and it wasn’t long before Natasha was closing her eyes and tipping her head back against the cool upper lip of the washtub, a soft sigh releasing from her lungs as she tried to relax.  Tried, in vain, to clear her mind, to not let herself break down.  Just once she’d like to find solace, one moment of comfort, especially on her own.  She had to be able to do this on her own, find her own anchor to her happiness in case--in case--.

She swallowed thickly and her eyes snapped open in her haste to find something, anything else to focus on.  She would not consider entertaining the idea that she could lose one of them, let alone both of them.  She had to keep positive, had to force herself to keep going.  She was not losing anything else to that power hungry son of a bitch who fancied himself above everything else, who courted Death and the destruction brought with it.  She’d be damned before she let him rip something else away from her.  

She set to scrubbing her skin furiously, working at it until it burned under the hot water and looked red as Volstagg’s face after he’d drank too much, and still it didn’t seem to be enough, never seemed to be enough to get wholly clean, but it would have to do.  She let the stinging of her skin ground her even as it set her teeth on edge and caused her to shiver even with the extreme heat of the water.  They were due to hear back from the light elves of Alfheim within the next few days, Thor’s emissary having been gone for the better half of a week, and with the other realms in disarray since the destruction of one of the nine realms she supposed it was no shock that it was taking a little longer to receive word.  Thor had been worried that the king might take offense to Thor not showing up himself, or at least Loki, but as the latter was deep within negotiations with his brother, Helblindi having shown up in his father’s stead, Laufey wanting to keep a close eye on the goings on of his own people.  They’d had a certain amount of civil unrest, from what Natasha had heard when Loki had come back complaining each evening, and it was making the royal family uncomfortable.  What was worse, the stone giants seemed to be amassing at the Jotun’s borders, and so if Thanos attacked Asgard while Laufey’s men were defending themselves, they would be at a significant disadvantage, unable to call upon the Jotuns to help defend.  

Assuming they even said yes to the juncture between the two realms, of course.  

Muffling a shout of displeasure and frustration Natasha dipped her head under the water, releasing one slow air bubble after another as she opened her eyes under the water to stare up at the ceiling.  

The green, bug eyes of a skrull stared back down at her, the thin lips pulled into a lecherous grin, the knife she’d kept at her side held aloft, ready to swing down and stab her in the gut.  

With a splutter and a cry she rose out of the tub, sloshing water around her, shouting in surprise and whipping her arms towards her foe only to find--nothing.  

Only her imagination, or perhaps the pent up magic she’d yet to release, having little to no time to practice or get with either Frigga or Loki to try and train herself once more.  Her wrist where her runes had been burned itched furiously, as though she’d just cast magic, and it was only when she’d followed where her right hand had been pointing did she see that she’d obliterated a rather nice potted plant that Frigga had given to her in hopes that it would help her find peace in taking care of it, as though Nat had time.  Now there was a smoking hole in the wall, the smashed ceramics and dirt a guilty reminder of what had once stood there.  Dammit all.  

“As if it’s not enough, I’m losing my damn mind as well,” Nat muttered, furious with herself, pulling one of the towels nearest the bath to wrap around her before stepping out.  Without her having to say a word the water changed itself, clearing up until another hot bath stood waiting for whomever needed it next, and with her dagger firmly in hand Natasha moved back to the main room, changing and strapping her knives to her body to prepare to meet the day, chin held as high as she possibly could, and doing everything in her power to keep from jumping at the slightest of noises.  The people needed a role model they could look up to, one who was fearless.  Strong.   _‘I must be their strength.’_  

There was simply no room for anything else.  


	2. All The Tomorrows

She found Loki already sitting with Helbindi, the enormous giant’s arms folded over his chest as he took in the advisor, stoic gaze calculating his elder brother.  Though Natasha had thought it would be tense, having a Jotun prince at the castle in the midst of all the other chaos, she was pleased to be wrong this one time.  Helbindi’s presence was if anything hardly noted in the insanity of the time, and not even the Aesir could bring themselves to cause problems with the dignitary or any of his men.  Natasha was proud of them for that, hoping for once the old habits of centuries past would be traded for a new peace between the two.  It would be the last thing Thanos would want at the time, and anything that made him mad or dampened his plans was a boon to Nat.  

Not wanting to disturb the two she pointedly looked for a seat elsewhere in the dining hall, thinking she might visit with Hogun and see how things with Vanaheim had been going, but Loki caught her attention and beckoned her closer.  ‘Oh, very well then.’  Smiling, she kissed his cheek and squeezed his hand when she grew close enough, tipping her head to Helbindi in respect.  They weren’t too fond of being overly pleasant.  

“Sister.”  The Jotun’s voice was deep, mirroring the rumbling of an earthquake, and she echoed the sentiment as she took her seat at Loki’s side, turning to the side to survey the enormous man.  Loki said nothing, choosing instead to take a sip of water and Natasha felt her heart stutter slightly.  What in the Hel was this silence supposed to mean?

“My father would prefer we visit to sign off on the treaty between Asgard and Jotunheim,” Loki finally spoke, each of his words obviously weighed carefully as his green eyes met Natasha’s.  “He is unwilling to leave his throne for fear of--.”

“Our father does not fear anything,” Helbindi growled and Natasha heard his knuckles crack as his grip tensed.  Loki backtracked with a barely muffled sigh.  

“He worries about the restlessness of the stone giants and so desires we visit him.  From there we will visit his armies and set up a method with which to contact one another, as well as approve the creation of a second Bifrost upon their land.”  

Natasha’s head spun.  The Bifrost was a new revelation, she supposed, having known about the other stipulations the treaty had begun to center around.  She wondered how long it had taken Laufey to construct these ideas after having met Loki at their wedding.  

_‘The craftiness of the pair of them is really astounding.’_

“How long will we be gone for?” Natasha asked, keeping her voice even as she considered the two.  

“Two weeks at the least,” Helbindi said, and here Loki’s hand tightened on hers.  Ah, the problem then.  

She took a moment, pretending to consider it as she looked down at her lap, before turning back up to Helbindi.  “I’m afraid we cannot agree to that length of time,” she said and for a moment she felt a twinge of irritation rise towards Loki.  He knew that they’d each agreed on a week at most, Thor having been adamant about it when they’d been discussing possible scenarios.  It would be far too dangerous for them to be longer, no matter what the cost.  Seven days and seven nights, that was all that could be spent away.  So why hadn’t Loki already haggled his way out of it?  Why did he have her take care of the issue?  

Helbindi’s body tensed and he drew himself up to his full height.  Even seated Natasha had had to look up to him and so him standing had certainly succeeded in making her feel tiny.  As if she needed help with that; Loki might’ve been a runt, but he was a damn tall one.  

“You will do my family great insult by not accepting.  My father wishes to ensure the sincerity of Asgard extends further than their immediate need for soldiers.”  

The noise had risen in an attempt to allow the trio more privacy, Volstagg commanding more attention as he retold one of his more well known stories.  Nat felt gratitude well within her as Helbindi looked perturbed by the lack of a response around him, as though he’d been intending to prove how false Natasha and Loki supposedly were.  

“Helbindi,” Natasha said, beckoning him to sit once more.  His gamble hadn’t paid off and she was growing tired of his childish activity.  

He glowered but did as requested, jaw clenched tight.  Loki visibly relaxed, having prepared for a fight, but Natasha knew better.  He’d not gotten the empowering reaction he’d wanted and so had nothing to validate his violence.  If he started a fight word would inevitably reach his father that his son and emissary had let his temper get the best of him, and the King did not seem like the sort to take misconduct lightly.  

“I mean no insult in refusing your terms,” Natasha began in earnest, leaning in to intimate that she knew and understood his fears once he’d sat back down.  The frost giants had not been handled well in the past, and while it had not been Natasha’s own fault she was in a position to fix it.  Fix it she would.  “But as your father cannot in good conscious leave the throne for too long, as royal advisor neither can Loki or myself--.”

“You should not let your personal liaison influence your politics else you may not find you are in power for much longer,” Helbindi interrupted, sullen, not even trying to hide the threat in his words.  Natasha froze and felt her blood heat up.  As if it were any of his business, honestly, and though her gaze frosted over her lips twisted into a smile.  

“And you ought not to speak about what you know not about,” she hissed, reaching over Loki and snagging Helbindi’s arm.  Rather than freezing as she thought she might, his skin seemed to burn beneath her grip, so much so that the giant’s own expression changed to one of surprised pain as he tried to pull away.  She held fast.  

“My personal dealing sare none of your business, brother mine.  What worries me is not the beast that bellows the loudest but the one who waits in the shadows until the others have exhausted themselves.  Now, if you wish to keep charging in, assuming every breath I take is an offense to you, your father, or whomever you desire to bring up then fine, but I intend to fight Thanos, and I intend to win.  You can scream and declare me what you wish, a whore, a traitor, whichever, but once I am finished with Thanos and have made him suffer for the atrocities he committed to my people I will certain to turn my attention to those who once screamed at me, those who refused to support me, and deal with them myself.”  

She hadn’t noticed that her voice had risen until it rang in the silent hall, and this time not even Volstagg could come to the rescue.  She refused to let her face heat up as she released the giant and, with a small flourish, stood up to exit the hall, her head held high.  She barely made it out, the large doors swinging shut behind her, before she had to pull away into one of the darker nooks of the hall, her breathing shallow and her hands trembling.  What the hell was she doing, threatening him?  They needed him, pompous ass though he might be!

“Stupid,” she muttered as she ran a hand through her hair, struggling to remember just how to breathe.  “You royal fucking idiot--.”

She went silent as the door to the hall opened, then shut once more.  The heavy footsteps told her it was Helbindi, and Natasha forced herself to straighten, muscles going tense.  She was grateful, then, for the many knives constantly strapped to her body, but whether he didn’t notice her or didn’t want to speak with her any more, the giant passed her by.  Good.  Waiting until he’d gone far enough that his footsteps became muffled, she stepped out in time to see him disappear down the hall to the scrying chamber, where he’d attempt to converse with his father likely.  Assuming Laufey was in a good mood they might be able to get away with avoiding being another target.  

She didn’t want to think about that, though, and after palming her hands on her skirts she stepped out of the corner and made her way back towards her room. She’d eat breakfast alone, not wishing to mess up again like that.  

Not that she’d get any peace, of course, not after what she’d pulled.  Loki met her there not a few minutes after she’d sent food up, bursting in without so much as knocking.  “What do you think you’re doing?” He demanded, and she could all but taste the way the air around him had changed.  He was furious, terrified, and it made her stomach turn.  

“Did he already get a response from Laufey?” She asked, rising from where she’d sat at her desk.  

“No, but I’ll be amazed if he isn’t on the Bifrost and back to Jotunheim within the hour,” he spat.  “You know how hard I worked to try for peace with them, Natasha?  Do you understand how much time I put to even get him here?”

“Well then he should’ve realized to hold his tongue, shouldn’t he?  It’s none of his business what you, Thor, and I do so long as it doesn’t interfere.  Besides,” she said, remembering and stepping towards him.  “You knew that we can’t stay anywhere longer than a week, Loki.  Why didn’t you bother telling him that, or fight with him about it?”  She’d stopped to stand in front of him, her eyes narrowed, neck hurting from having to look up.  Why did all the men in her life have to be so obscenely tall?  “Why’d you bring me over?  You knew that I’d not agree to it.”  

It was Loki’s turn to grow silent, and once more he was on the immediate defensive, explaining that he wasn’t getting anywhere because his brother wanted to hear her opinion.  He got a few minutes of conversation out before Nat snarled.  

“You fucking coward,” she spat.  “You didn’t want to tell him no, so you brought your wife over to do it for you, because I’m a woman and if things all go to hell then you can blame them on me.  Norns, I thought we were over this need for approval shit!”  

“What are you talking about?” He asked, stepping closer, his own voice hitting the same, dangerous low tremors that Helbindi’s had.  Had it been any other time she might’ve taken pause, or noticed how her pulse naturally raced at the sound of his voice hitting such a low tremor.  Now?  She shoved him backwards, beyond furious.  

“You’re so obsessed with getting the approval of a paternal figure--it doesn’t matter if it was Odin or Laufey, now that he’s at least somewhat stepping up and trying to act as though he’s your father.  You don’t have to make them proud, Loki!  Dammit why can’t you just be your own person like--.”

“Like Thor?” He snarled, cutting her off, one of his hands reaching to grab her chin and squeeze, hard.  Her hand stretched out to strike him so hard across the face she was surprised at herself.  

Second mistake of the day, it seemed.  

“No.  Like me.”  She ground out.  “Since when have I ever asked or demanded your approval?  Or anyone’s?  We do what we have to because it is for the best and--.”  

His lips crashed against hers, hands holding her face so that she couldn’t pull away, taking advantage of her mouth being already opened to speak.  She wanted to hate him, and bit at his bottom lip and tongue until she tasted blood, beating against his chest as he held her there and devoured her whole.  In the end she melted against him, as she always did.  She backed him up against the nearest wall, pinning him there, her hands snaking upwards to undo the leather belting and buckles that kept him from her.  

“I hate you,” she breathed against his lips when they finally pulled away to suck in air, eyes half-lidded and lips swollen.  

“I love you.” He mirrored, kissing her again.  “And I’m sorry.”  

“Good.  Then you can make it up to me,” she huffed, moaning as he traced her jaw with his lips, biting and sucking at the flesh until it reddened and purpled beneath his attentions.  

He endeavored to, snaking his hands down to cup her backside and hoist her up so that she could wrap her legs around his waist.  Their clothing disappeared, skin hot as they pressed together all the closer, looking for more friction.  Loki moaned as Natasha sucked on his bottom lip, and he managed to steer them towards the bed, cock already pressed up against her slick heat.  She groaned when he laid her down and pulled away, tugging her legs so that he could bring his mouth to her already wet slit from where he knelt in front of her, sucking on the swollen flesh while his fingers kneaded the soft flesh of her thighs.  She shouted in surprise when his tongue ran from top to bottom before circling around her clit, fingers already breaching her as he sucked at the bundle of nerves.  She trembled and ran a hand through his hair, grabbing hold of it as he made short work of apologizing for his actions, whining when he pulled away just before she came.  

“Ass,” she huffed, though when he lifted her hips up to wrap her legs around his waist, sliding into her with ease and a soft groan, her thoughts went silent, little left to think about except that she just wanted more.  It wasn’t often that she and Loki got time to themselves, and she welcomed the rarity.  He did as well, never taking her eyes off of her as he pushed into her maddeningly slowly, before withdrawing, cutting off her plea to go faster by snapping his hips hard against hers.  There.  Much better.  

 

Laufey, as it turned out, was more or less impressed by Natasha’s spirit, so while Helbindi had indeed complained to him the king had told them that a week was more than acceptable and fair.  They’d agreed to set out in a few days time, Natasha’s stomach flopping as the time passed far too quickly for her liking.  Seven days and seven nights, that was promised, and Thor had assured her that he’d understood when she’d gone to him to let him know that both she and Loki were required at the meeting.  He kissed her quickly and smiled down at her, his enormous hand cupping the side of her face, a comfort.  It was always a comfort to see him standing, smiling back at her, when she’d been so afraid before that she would never see it again.  

“Be safe,” he said.  “Try not to let your fury get the best of you.”

She laughed though she didn’t quite feel it in her gut, the sound coming out less than as strong as she’d hoped.  “I’ll save all the fury for you and Loki when I get back, shall I?” She teased, moving his hand to her lips so she could kiss his knuckles, before Loki knocked on the door and informed Natasha that it was, indeed, time for them to get going.  She squeezed Thor’s hand once more before he walked her towards the door, Loki having finished making the appropriate arrangements for them to travel and stay.  He’d taught her a couple simple spells so that she would be able to keep herself warm, Loki not likely to have that problem considering his blood, and Thor left them at the start of the bridge, kissing Natasha’s cheek in order to help them save face before helping her get onto her horse.  

“Have safe travels you two.  Contact mother if you need anything.”  Thor said, looking to Loki, who nodded.  Natasha pressed one of the two stones that Loki had given to her before, Loki still holding onto the second, into one of Thor’s hands.  “If there’s trouble,” she said with a stern nod.  They could never be too careful, especially not then.  Thor assured her he would let them know the moment something happened, and with a soft pat on the rump of Natasha’s horse he sent them off to meet Laufey.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading, commenting, and leaving kudos! Hope you're enjoying reading this as much as I am writing it :DD


	3. Alone With This Vision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay between updates, but I hope this one makes up for it! Thanks so much for reading! :DD

She was grateful for the spells he’d taught her once the Bifrost had left them in the middle of a barren surface, at least it would have been had it not been for the welcoming committee already standing there.  She hoped they weren’t late, though there wasn’t much that could be done about it now.  She shivered and pressed two fingers to the runes that Loki had showed her and felt her blood heat up, felt the cold diminishing to little more than a minor irritant, one that quickly disappeared as Laufey stepped closer--Norns, she’d forgotten how tall he really was--and wrapped a white fur cloak around her shoulders.  

“I bring you, Natasha of Asgard and once Midgard, under the protection of myself, King Laufey, as well as my people.”  He said, Loki having told her of the ceremonial words that would ensure that they would have the highest security available while staying.  Laufey was not keen to make enemies with Asgard, no matter what the past might have suggested, as he was ever the pragmatic and knew that no matter how down and out they might’ve been, there would be a day when he would regret making enemies of them.  Odin had taught him that once, and it was not a lesson he was keen to learn again.  

Natasha thanked him for his hospitality and after he’d done the same to Loki, who embraced his father as best he could, the two being of such different statures, Laufey led them towards the palace.  Where Asgard’s citadels had far more ground room, the houses of the Jotunar crawled up to the very edges of the palace, and the people, the towering, blue-skinned giants numbering in far more than Natasha had ever thought, came to watch them proceed towards the center of the city.  She had to crane her neck to try and meet the red eyes of the surrounding inhabitants, certain she’d be asking Loki for a neck massage as soon as they were in the privacy of their own room.  Though no heads were bowed, as was a custom of the Aesir to greet their royalty, hands big as Natasha’s face reached out to slap them on the back, lips forming shouted greetings.  Children nearly as big as Natasha herself ran alongside them, grinning brightly, their red eyes vivid and alive as they laughed and motioned to Natasha’s furious red hair and the white cloak that Laufey had draped around her.  She was grateful for it.  While the wind might not have bothered any of the Jotuns it certainly would’ve been the devil for her.  

“Your hair is good luck to them,” Loki murmured in her ear as he took her hand in his and squeezed.  At least he felt warm, and she was grateful for the way his fingers twined with her own chilled ones.  

“What?” She asked, unsure she’d heard him correctly.

“Red hair.  It’s very uncommon here, and it’s a sign of good luck,” he laughed.  “Most Jotuns, when they grow fully, lose their hair actually,” he pointed out, and indeed as they passed it certainly made it easier to tell the men from the women.  Well, aside from the physically obvious aspects, of course, though even their women were far more muscular and menacing than half of the men Natasha knew.  Interesting.  She hoped, then, that it would bode well for their alliance if she was considered lucky to have on their side.  

As they moved it was all she could do not to gawk.  Laufey strode ahead of them, and she was thankful that he didn’t get to see the way her mouth dropped an inch or so as she stared at the houses that towered over them, slabs of ice crafted into walls thicker than her thighs, high steepled rooftops to keep the snow from piling on it, and even as the dreary, mostly cloud covered sun hung in the deep azure sky every so often the beams of light would hit the ice just so, and she would swallow her tongue as she watched the ice burst into color, so much more than just frozen water particles placed carefully together.  

The castle had very much the same quality, she noticed, as they stepped inside the doors at least three times her height, these made out of thick wood she recognized as belonging to Asgard.  Good, they’d done at least some trade with their realm, and she hoped it would continue as their bonds strengthened.  “Your palace, and your realm as a whole, is gorgeous, Laufey king,” she complimented once the heavy door had shut behind them, closing the welcoming party, her husband, and herself, inside the enormous building.  The ceilings arched far above her, thickening as they reached further up, likely to prevent the ceiling from caving in should the snows get too heavy.  The flooring was made of the same wood as the doors, she was pleased to see, grateful that she wouldn’t be slipping and sliding all over the place, and the heels of her boots left the softest tapping as she followed Laufey down towards where she assumed her and Loki’s room would be.  Laufey thanked her for the compliment, showing her the dining hall where supper would be served once she and Loki recovered from their journey, as well as where the throne room was just beside it.  They would make their plans there the next day, after everyone had gotten a good nights rest from celebrating the converging of the two realms.  She tried not to let her stomach flip too much at that, hoping it would all go well and according to plan.  Judging by how Helbindi’s face contorted at the idea, however, she wasn’t so certain it would go as smoothly as she was hoping.  

Loki’s hand tightened on hers.  They could do this.  

There were two darker skinned women, her and Loki’s size, waiting for the couple when Laufey finally stopped them in front of their room.  It was far more lavish than she’d envisioned, the feather bed enormous and strewn with thick animal pelts, not all of which she could identify, and the eyes of the two women raised only when Laufey addressed them.  The white-black reversal of their eyes made her breath catch.  Dark elves.  As though the white hair and pointed ears wouldn’t have given it away, she supposed.  

“Draw a bath for my son and his wife, I am certain they are exhausted and in need of relaxing before tonight’s festivities,” the king ordered, and before Natasha could find the kindest words she could think of to tell him it really wasn’t necessary, they would be fine, the two women were already off and Laufey was excusing himself to allow them time to rest.  

The door shutting behind them, the heavy, final sounding thud, resounded through her bones, and she and Loki were entirely alone.  

On either side of the bed were two windows carved into the ice of the walls, the ice that made up the window panes thin enough to let them see outside, and that was where Natasha slowly edged as Loki slipped the trunks of theirs that the others had brought to the side.  Below the people seemed to be celebrating.  Though they weren’t lighting fires there were sounds of cheers coming from below, parties being assembled for hunts for the feast, peddlers bringing out their wares to be sold for the day.  Children ran through the streets with multi-colored fabrics trailing behind them and Natasha couldn’t help but smile.  Really they weren’t so different than the rest of everyone, were they?  

“I confess, it’s not near as bad as I expected,” Loki hummed softly in her ear, and she felt him behind her before anything else, leaning against his body only to find that he’d, oddly enough, adopted his Jotun form, blue arms encircling her.  She smiled, tipping her head up to nuzzle against his neck and feeling his heart speed up from the attention.  

“Always the pessimist,” she couldn’t help but tease, earning her a deep rumble of a laugh that hurt her heart.  She’d not heard him so, well, light sounding in some time, and it was good for both of them that they’d come here as requested of them.  

“I can’t remember the last time I had you all to myself,” he admitted, thin lips finding her cheek and kissing it gently, slipping lower as she moved her head to the side, offering him further access.  

“You had me not that long ago,” she reminded him with a playful nudge to the ribs.  He dragged the fabric of her skirt upwards, grinning.  

“No.  I mean entirely alone.  Without the worries of Thor stepping in unannounced.”  

Mm, yes it had been some time.  “We do have servants to worry about.  And what would your father say if we already raised a scandal by annoying them with your screaming?”  She asked.  

He snorted.  “My screaming?”

“I can make you be vocal if I wish you to be.”

“Perhaps you ought to show me.”

She could feel him hard against her backside and the pressure made her suck in a quick breath, surprised at how easy it had been to get him going.  Perhaps it had been too long since they’d just had time to themselves, without worrying about Thor.  She’d rectify it, but not then.  Not standing in front of a window for all of Jotunheim to see.  She pulled away and kissed him instead.  “Tonight,” she promised.  “We have a whole week ahead of us, love.  Give me a few hours to adjust.”  She asked quietly, stroking the side of his face and smiling up at him.  As though he’d refuse her that, she thought, as his face softened and he kissed her gently as well.  

The servants came back shortly after, informing the pair that the requested bath was ready.  Nat’s mind flew to when she’d thought she saw the skrull leering down at her the last time, and shuddered.  No, she wouldn’t have a repeat of that, not with Loki with her at least.  She hoped.  They were all so prone to their own nightmares and flashbacks it was truly a miracle none of them had stabbed another as a result, and for that she was grateful.  

She’d become so lost in her head that she hardly noticed Loki’s nervous, unsure gaze as he stared at her and tried to get her attention, the pressure of his hand on hers tightening slightly.  

“What?  Sorry,” she apologized, voice soft as she felt her cheeks grow warm.  Whoops.  

“I asked if you were ready.  You went cold as the palace,” he murmured, taking both of her hands in his.  She stood on her toes to kiss his cheek, smiling when she pulled away. Even if it wasn’t her usual glow of a smile it would have to do.  She wasn’t certain if she could muster up another.  “I got a little lost in my head for a moment, darling.”  She assured him.  “But I’m all better now.  Are you ready?”  

They slipped into the water, Loki followed by Natasha, who took a seat on his lap as the heat made her lips part in a moan.  It was borderline uncomfortable, in comparison to the chill she was so used to, but Loki’s hands were even better than the warmth.  He massaged the floral oil left out by the servants and hummed to keep both of their minds occupied, rather than allowing her to simply drift off into a stupor.  It wouldn’t end well for either of them, and just because Nat had left a knife beneath the claw-footed tub out of habit didn’t mean Loki wanted to give her an excuse to use it.  

“Do you think things will ever go back to how they were?” Loki asked, voice quiet as his fingertips probed her scalp, rubbing at the soft spot just an inch up from her temples on either side.  

How could they, she wondered, when so much had happened to ensure that their life had been turned upside down?  The nine realms were no longer intact, and though things might have been at a lull for the moment she very much doubted it would last very long.  That they’d gone on for the duration so far was nothing short of a miracle, but how much longer could it go on for?  

And how would this lull come back to haunt them when Thanos was ready for them?  

 

They met with Laufey over dinner as planned, Natasha taking her place beside Loki on the king’s right side, and did everything she could to try and keep herself calm as they went over the plans for the future and the peace between the two realms.  It was a long time coming, that was certain.  Her foot tapped nervously beneath the table even though Laufey remained as cordial and welcoming as ever.  Whatever Natasha had been expecting it hadn’t been that, or any of his welcoming gestures.  It was a relief to be proven wrong for once.  

“The Bifrost technicians will be brought in as soon as they are able,” Loki was assuring Laufey when the doors of the great hall opened.  The chill that followed crept through Natasha’s spell, sinking into every fiber of her body until she was certain she’d freeze from the inside out before ever knowing warmth again.  Something was flung into the hall just as Laufey rose to his feet, red eyes slimming as the blue head rolled to a stop just inches from the table, the tongue cut from the mouth and eyes gouged out.  Everything went silent.  From the opened door stepped a shrouded figure, draped in a cloak, his face covered by a metal plate.  Loki stood as well as a volley of other heads soon followed.  

“Perhaps you were enjoying yourselves too loudly, or do idiotic, nonsensical talks of peace deafen you to the cries of your own people?”  The figure asked, voice like glass cracking.  

The spell of silence was broken.  Shrieks and screams echoed amongst snarls and animalistic grunts.  Laufey, incensed, threw a dagger at the man’s chest.  The attacker backhanded it off course as a flurry of new attackers stormed the hall and the Jotuns, who’d previously been enjoying their food and drink, launched into action.  Natasha and Loki were among them, Nat never leaving her room without at least a few weapons on her person as Loki summoned his staff.  Their foes were tall, almost insect in nature how they scuttled and pointed their long, jagged spears at the oncoming Jotuns.  Their chattering and screeches between one another made Natasha long to carve off her ears, yet the choking noise they made as she ripped through their throats, or else buried her knife into where she thought the heart must be, was nearly worse.  Loki fought on the other side of the hall, having gone blue to unleash his own formidable power.  Natasha caught a flash of fang, heard his familiar bellow of bloodlust and took heart.  She pressed further, harder.  Each dig of the blade was a murdered ally avenged, and so she made many.  She recognized the man’s voice as she heard him goad Laufey into further action and renewed her efforts to get nearer to the king and Thanos’ lackey.  They’d spoken of Earth’s destruction, yet she wouldn’t let him leave with his limbs attacked if she was able.  She could only sneak glances of the jotun king, and his far shorter foe fighting, watched claw sink into bone and blade rend blue flesh from limb in equal measure.  Loki and Helbindi were far too busy to take notice, each taking on the numbers that poured in from the opened doors.  The feast table had been overturned, and Natasha’s own adversary stumbled as his long legs hit the back of it, spitting in her face when she drew close enough to wedge her knife into its throat and pull sharply to the right, slicing through muscle and thick tissue, black gobs of blood staining her hands from the close proximity.  She used the back of her other hand to clean off her face where the saliva had begun to sting like acid.  

Only then did she realize Laufey was nowhere to be seen.  Strange for such a tall man to go missing.  Stranger, still, that the Other’s forces--the Chitauri she heard him calling them--had begun to retreat.  They’d been holding their own well enough, yet Natasha was one of the many who chased them out of the city, into the ruin of houses and buildings she’d walked through hours prior.  Had it really only been hours ago?  They’d landed crafts large enough to fit legions not far from the edges of the houses, yet without the advanced guns of the Aesir they could not fire or attack the forces.  

She cursed.  The first day and this happened, it figured  It was as bad of fortune as she could imagine.  As she cleaned the blade of her knife on her dress, feeling more worn down from that skirmish than she had in some time, her mind struggled to put it all together.  What could they have possibly gained, besides demonstrating what might befall those who allied with the Aesir.  They might’ve known that the Asgardians needed as many allies as possible, though they’d still taken an enormous risk to prove such a point.  As she stepped through the broken city, heard the wailing of the injured mix with the emotional ache of the living, she felt guilt rear its ugly head once again.  How much of this was her fault for destroying the spell during the Convergence?  How many widows, widowers, and orphans were left because of her?  

The Jotuns had gathered in the hall around something.  Many had fallen to their knees, clasped their heads in their hands, or else beat their fists against their chests.  From the center there came a loud howl of anguish.  Her heart stopped.  She didn’t see Loki.  

No.  No it couldn’t be.  

Tears scorched her cheeks as she stumbled forward, shoving through the amassed bodies and sliding on blue blood until she caught a glimpse of her husband kneeling beside another figure.  Laufey.  

The king’s heart had been torn from his chest and Helbindi cradled his head in his lap as he screamed with the agony of the loss.  Natasha nearly joined them on the floor, her knees growing weak.  He’d smiled and inquired about grandchildren, about the future, not an hour ago.  His eyes had been bright with a familiar, similar mischief as Loki’s when he’d taunted them about Thor.  Now they stared at the ceiling.  Blank.  

A cool hand took hers and squeezed, led her away from the scene and to the room she’d occupied centuries ago.  At least that was how it felt.  

“What does this mean?”  She found herself asking as she was sat down on the bed, looking up at Loki with disbelief.  Loki was stiff in front of her, unable to meet her gaze.  

“Loki.  Don’t do this,” she said.  “I need you to talk to me.  Don’t shut me out.”  She reached out and squeezed his hand.  “The truce, your brother?  What does it mean?”

“It will hold.”

“How can you be so sure?”  She asked, amazed.  He still didn’t look at her.  

“Because I say it will.  I am the king now.”  


	4. If You Try to Run

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, but I hope it's very much worth it. Thanks for reading  
> Also, a HUGE shout out to everyone who's commented: thank you guys SO much. Seriously, you are all the driving force behind this fic, and I would be nothing without you all. So, thanks again. I get a little choked up when I hear how much you guys enjoy my writing, and it means so much to me that you've stuck with me throughout parts one and two and you're still interested in how part three turns out. oajdsfojadsofjaodsjfa -fangirls- Thanks again!

Laufey had written up the documents once he and Loki had begun speaking of treaties, as it turned out.  Helbindi fought it as hard and as loudly as he could, accusing Loki of having planned the murder of their father to ensure Jotunheim’s submission to Asgard, citing that he had no love for his own country.  A wolf in sheep’s clothing, he called him.  No one listened when Loki insisted it was Laufey’s idea, and when the legality of the documents held up in the Jotun’s own court Helbindi stormed from the castle, taking some three hundred men with him.  

Without them, and with their substantial losses from the Other’s attack, they were numbered at some 1500.  Not even a full quarter of what was expected.  Natasha didn’t have to be a mathematician for the numbers to put her immediately on edge.  What was more, their week was slowly coming to an end, and she knew the moment that Helbindi smelled even the quickest hint of weakness or dissention among the ranks he would reclaim the city, and the Norns only knew what would happen to the treaty after that.  If anything, it would give him more of a reason to back off of the treaty and align himself with Thanos and the mad Titan’s desires, no matter if his own life or those of his men’s were at risk.  He wasn’t a man who was thinking clearly, too grief stricken and filled with anger to consider the pros and cons of each situation, and so as he disappeared over the blue horizon late that evening Natasha felt her heart sink down into the depths with him.  What were they going to do now?  

As if it wasn’t bad enough, the stone in her pocket began to burn, Thor calling to her.  Hopefully it was just to see how things were going, Natasha having explained to him the precarious situation that they’d been put into, and she excused herself from Loki’s side to step towards the scrying station in the room adjoining the conference hall.  In an effort to ensure they never went without communicating again, Loki had taught her the redimentary basics of scrying, had taught her just enough of the magic behind it that she would be able to do it, and so when she called to Thor the image was a little fuzzy.  Not fuzzy enough to hide the fact that he was obviously worried about something, his brow pulled tight down in worry as he gazed up at her.  

“My darling.  I’m so glad to see that you are well.  Aren’t you?”  He asked, leaning in a little closer.  

“Yes, fine,” she promised him with a smile.  Hopefully he wouldn’t be able to tell how nervous she was about the next day.  “How are things there?  What is wrong?”  Her heart jumped at the thought that more could be going wrong, though she supposed if they had gotten attacked on Jotunheim it would only make sense that Asgard would suffer blows as well.  That Thor was still alive was a boon, but still.  

“I was wondering when to expect you back tomorrow.  I have missed you.  Greatly,” he admitted, yet the lines on his face remained as hard as ever, a reminder that there was something else that was bothering him.  It wasn’t simply the distance that was making him nervous.  Her eyes flickered between his, trying to discern what it possibly could be, but without the clear picture she couldn’t make a thing out.  The annoyance made her shift from foot to foot, gnawing on her bottom lip.  

“I don’t know, Thor.  With Laufey gone Helbindi expects us to hold to the time limit that we placed before.  Once we’re gone, well, he’ll try and take the city back I’m willing to bet anything.  But if we don’t leave in the alotted time he’ll call us liars for giving him the time limit provided and say that we only ever intended to get Laufey killed.”  She and Loki had talked that bit out before, Loki worried about what his younger brother would do when the time came.  What could they do when both actions were equally damming?  What possible road could they take that wouldn’t end in disaster?  

“I need you here,” Thor insisted, and his voice was edged with something that only made her more nervous.  What in the nine realms wasn’t he telling her?  

“Just me?”  She asked, and here she kept her voice quiet.  If Loki overheard Thor asking for simply her, without caring whether he came back along on the journey, it would only end in an uproar between the two brothers.  Not for the first time did she wonder how the hell had she happened to get into a situation, but her thoughts were cut short as he nodded his head, unwilling to give words to it.  Her fears were shared, then, and Thor had always been far more clever and intuitive than those around him had given him credit for.  Particularly Loki.  

“What happened, Thor?  Tell me everything,” she insisted, hushing her voice and leaning over the shallow pool, watching as his shoulders slumped and his head hung forward.  It looked almost as though she could touch his braids from where he was standing, and she longed to reach out and run her fingers through his soft cornsilk hair, but it would only disturb the image and destroy the tenuous connection.  She contented herself instead with clutching the side of the basin.  

“I have had an offer of peace and treaty from Alfheim,” he admitted, though he couldn’t have looked any less pleased about it.  Natasha felt her heart plummet, her mouth going cotton dry as she stared down at him.  A hundred and one scenarios passed through her head at the same time, each of them more terrible than the last.  

“What’d they want?”  She asked, managing to just barely keep her voice level.  

“A marriage treaty between myself and the princess.  As I am still unmarried and the king of Asgard they thought it would be the best way to align the strength of their warriors with our own, and solidify the ties between our two countries.”  She watched him swallow thickly and felt her own chest ache at the idea.  Thor, married to another woman, sharing her bed when she beckoned?  Doting upon someone else, kissing another woman’s lips and whispering the same sweet promises in her ears as he had her own?  Jealousy, hard and merciless, rose in her gut and choked whatever intelligent sentiment she might’ve come up with, ignored that the treaty was an easy, and a foolproof one that could help them to win this damn war, and shook her head.  

“No.”

“I haven’t given an answer yet,” Thor admitted.  “I do not wish to, though Frigga is advising me to take it into dutiful, diligent consideration--.”

“I don’t want to lose you.”  

It was petty, a cheap shot taken in a moment of honest vulnerability.  She loved Loki, adored her husband, but she loved Thor the same.  The situation between them had been a precarious one but they’d worked it out, Natasha unwilling to figure any other compromise until the time had come, and there it was, presenting itself with bared teeth and death in its eyes.  If they didn’t accept the proposal then it was likely Alfheim would not help them, but if she did--.  If they did, and Thor agreed, then she would lose him.  

And if she didn’t then they may all die either way, and there was no guarantees for what the afterlife held.  Hela held no promises, played by what rules she decided to create.  It was brutal, it was bloody, and it was absolute, without exceptions.  So what was she to do?

The moment the words that had left her lips registered she wished she could take them back, swallowing thickly as she blinked quickly.  That was stupid.  A knee-jerk decision would only bring them more pain and more suffering, and if she was responsible for the destruction and death of them all then she would never allow her spirit to rest.  Valhalla or not, she’d consign herself to the lowest pits of Helheim, to whatever Hela’s mind could think of without question.  It would be no more than she deserved, and she babbled quickly as she tried to force herself to think of something else to say, some promise that she could make to Thor.  

“I didn’t mean--Thor.  Don’t listen to me, it’s been a rough day,” she said, and she hated making excuses but if it got him to listen to reason then she would do it.  “You need to do this.  To follow through.  Have you met the princess?”  She asked as she wiped her face free of the anguish of the past with little difficulty. Hadn’t she pulled off worse than this in the past?  She’d convinced Erik that she was trustworthy, convinced Emma that Thor and Loki were worth saving, talked Odin and Loki both  into allowing her to leave to track Thor and the Berserkers down.  If she could do that then certainly she could pull herself together for a few minutes and salvage this.  

“Natasha--.”

“No, Thor.  Listen to me--I need you to listen.”  She said, taking a deep breath.  “We need them.  If we’re going to win, if we’re going to do anything, then we need them.”  She said, and to her amazement she sounded as though she believed it.  Not hard, she suppoed, when it was the truth, even if it was that harsh.  “So that means that marrying her is a must.  Is she comely?”

“Natasha--.”

“Thor.  Answer my question, please.  I can always tell when you lie.”  She said, trying for a smile and knowing it turned into a grimace.  Damn.  

“Yes.  She is.”  He admitted, and she watched his shoulders deflate.  The truth, then.  She knew it would hurt him to admit it, and her own ego took a slight blow to it.  Perhaps she’d gotten too caught up in their charade, forgotten how precarious it all was and how easily it could tumble on down.  She was an idiot for thinking so, she knew, and yet . . . and yet.  

Her laugh sounded all the more forced courtesy of the ache in her heart.  “Well then what are you complaining about?  I’m certain she’ll produce you sons.”  She swallowed thick, doing all she could not to choke on the words.  “And you’ll grow to love her, Thor.  And she you.  You’re far too easy to love, you great fool.”  

She watched a fat tear roll down his cheek before he could pull himself together and longed to reach out and wipe it away, kiss it away, make him forget why he was so sad however she could.  She watched as he bit his bottom lip and squared his jaw and shoulders.  He’d come such a long way since she’d first met him, no longer the playful boy on the cusp of manhood, obsessed with playing war.  His shoulders ached with the burden of the kingdom and she wondered how long it would take before Loki’s mirrored the slump, till hers did the same.  She could already feel it on her back and wished more than anything to not.  

“You will be fine.  I’ll never be far away, Thor.  I promise.”  She said, and it was her turn to blink rapidly.  “But I don’t know how long we’ll be here.  I will do what I can to come back soon--Thor, I promise.”  Norns.  Her voice broke on the last word and she cleared her throat and dipped her head down so he wouldn’t see anything.  She ached for him, to feel his arms wrap around her and hear his voice promise her that things would turn out well rather than everything going the opposite direction.  How did it all come to this?  “But I must attend to Loki now.  As soon as I know more I will scry with you again and fill you in on what’s happening.  There’s little more that we can do other than wait to see how it all turns out.”  And she hated every moment of it.  “But agree to the treaty.  I want you to.”

“No you don’t.”  He said, his voice cooled steel and his eyes just as hard.  

“Thor.  Do it.  I can’t--.”  She choked again, and found herself unable to reign her emotions back in.  She shook her head, clearing her throat as hot, fat tears pushed past her eyes and dripped into the pool.  The image disrupted, Thor’s voice began to crack and waver, his promises that he loved her broken up as his image began to fade and disappear.  Just as well, she supposed, and her fingertips released the edge of the basin as she collapsed to her knees, wrapped her arms around her sides, and cried until the ache in her chest dulled and the sun that had once been high in the sky was already starting its descent to the horizon.  


	5. Fear is a device so quiet and precise

The end of Loki and Natasha’s week came and went, and the both of them stayed exactly where they were, as though Thor had never asked for them to return.  Loki sent men to track Helbindi down, among them Bylestir, the youngest of Laufey’s children.  While the Aesir produced few children, for whatever the reason, the Jotun didn’t seem to have that sort of problem.  As the youngest he was eager to prove himself, promising his new king he’d return with their brother and men in tow within a matter of days, taking a small band of his own.  

He returned on time, as promised, with the heads of those who he’d brought and wide, dead eyes.  There were words carved into his blue flesh, words such as traitor, and psy, and others she was told didn’t translate but could guess were awful none the less.  How Helbindi could do that to his kin . . . well it didn’t make any damn sense.  What was more, Bylestir was barely able to mumble out that he’d joined forces with the Other, the very man who’d killed Laufey, and by extent with Thanos.  He brought the men to their opponent’s side as well.  The bastard.  

“Our list of allies grows thinner every day,” Natasha found herself muttering as Loki recounted their losses for the hundredth time.  

“At least Thor secured Alfheim,” Loki said as his hand shot out to take hers and squeeze tight.  She let him, chest aching.  The engagement had been confirmed not two days after he’d told her and every time she heard it, she found the pain increased.  The wedding had been announced to take place at the end of the month.  

“Yes, he did that.”  She swallowed her pain.  “I want to go to his wedding, Loki.  You ought to go as well, though I understand if you cannot.”  She said, clearing her voice so it remained resolute.  There was no backing down on this.  It might’ve been her last chance to hold him, be with him in every sense of the word, before he was sworn to another.  

She still didn’t want to believe it, and doubted very much that it would hit her until she saw them say their vows.  Her chest tightened.  Then it would get even worse.  

“It’s too dangerous.  With Helbindi searching for every, and any, weakness he can find--.”

“Allow me to rephrase this,” Natasha cut.  “I am going to the wedding.  You will stay here with your people and your kingdom if that is what you wish, I won’t hold it against you.  In fact, I’d rather you stayed here.”  

His eyes narrowed.  “He’s going to be married.  He’s already been promised and likely consummated it early.  What if you mess up the arrangement between us and Alfheim?  What if you lose their support?”  

“Had it been me getting married you’d do the same thing.  Don’t deny it,” she growled.  She was over his petty antics, his excuses born not out of a desire to see them succeed but out of his own need and desire.  He had a point, that was without a doubt, but he couldn’t have cared less for the alignment with Alfheim, and instead saw only what he wanted and how to keep it.  “I’m going, Loki. I would appreciate your understanding , but with or without it nothing changes.  I’m still going.”

He caught her arm in hand, his eyes narrowed, as she made to pull away from him.  “You are married.  To me.  And you agreed to those arrangements knowing all too well that this was always a possibility.”

“Remind me why I married you again?”  She couldn’t help but ground out.  Pain flickered in Loki’s eyes and he released her as though her touch had burned him.  She ought to have felt bad, maybe even apologized, but she was too furious to even consider it when all she wanted to do was beat some sense into him.  It didn’t help that she hadn’t been able to spar, or even find a partner for it, damn size differences.  She was going crazy with all this extra energy and aggression, but there was simply nothing to be done about the matter.  Loki caught her again as she made to storm out, trying to kiss her, but she shoved him away.  

“Are you serious right now?”  She demanded, incredulous.  Honestly!  What did he think would happen?  “Piss off.”  

“I will not be cuckolded by him.  You are my wife,” Loki said, his eyes slitted and words chilled. He advanced on her without listening to her telling him to leave her alone.  “You will never claim Thor or Asgard. You are my wife because I was the one who would take you, who loved you.  Thor is as fleeting as the bloody storms he calls.  Do you think he would have taken you?  Hel, Natasha, after what you did to the both of us you’re damn lucky that I did!”  

Her fist struck his face.  Hard.  She made to repeat it, blinking furiously as she aimed for his gut, but he caught her fist.  Her head instead knocked against his, forcing him to let her go, even if her head spun as a result, aching.  

“Go fuck yourself, Loki,” she spat as she turned on her heel.  

“Oh, queen like behavior--that’ll win Thor over,” he called after her, not knowing when to stop when he got rolling.  

“At least I’m better off with him,” she snarled, slamming the door behind her.  Where she was going hardly mattered, and she heard Loki’s anguished shout reverberating around the hall she’d left him in.  Honestly, what was it with him and the blood self-destruct button?  Didn’t the asshole understand the concept of enough being enough?  He’d never quite figured out where the line was between acceptable and not, but even though she was aware of his inability to keep from harming everyone else around him just to spite them, didn’t make it any easier to live with him.  

She hurt even more than before and she had to stop just outside the walls of the castle.  It wasn’t necessarily safe for her to be there, never sure about who lived in the town still, or just how enticing Helbindi’s offer might’ve been.  She could all but hear Loki chiding her for being so careless, as though she was a child who didn’t understand the rules he set down were supposed to be for her protection, but she gritted her teeth and moved her fingers the the knives at her side.  She’d be fine.  

Besides, she could do with a nice fight, something to take her mind off of the idiot she’d married and his hateful words.  The cold winds whirled her skirts and the furs she kept herself wrapped in at all times, pulling them all the tighter around her as she stepped out and around the edge of the castle.  Keeping herself pent up in there was going to be the death of her, she knew it, and though she understood Loki’s fears he really needed to trust her.  She’d gone and done many a thing without his aid before, had followed Thor to Midgard in order to ensure that he returned to normal without Loki’s assistance, had followed him there when he was attempting to follow Odin’s plans for the convergence.  Didn’t he understand that if she could hold herself up that well without backup outside of her own intelligence and creativity that she could at least manage to take a walk or two by herself?  Perhaps it would be best if he joined her on them, if he had to.  He’d barely left the palace as it was unless it was to check on the status of his people, to assure them that he was doing everything he could to hold those who’d done this responsible.  But aside from that?  It would do them good to see their king mingling with them more often, she was certain.  

Though at the same time she considered not proposing the idea to him because, if he actually listened to her for once, she wouldn’t get a damn moment away from him.  

To her displeasure Natasha didn’t get the fight she’d been looking for, but refused to return inside until well after dark had fallen, the little sunlight that Jotunheim got swallowed up by the ever changing landscape.  It was childish of her, she knew, to wait for so long, but Loki deserved it.  She’d had a whole speech planned for when he told her off, and indeed he rushed to her with a furrowed brow the moment he caught sight of her entering the great hall.  

“Loki--.”

“There’s been trouble on Vanaheim.  You and I are both to go check it out,” he said, voice a whirl so that she was left, mouth open and head spinning as she struggled to comprehend it all.  “We ought to have left some time ago had you not been absent.”

Good to know he’d been worried.  She pushed the sarcastic comment down as she considered what he was saying.  “What happened?  Thanos?” She felt her blood go cold and her heart beat a little faster.

He shook his head.  “Helbindi.”

Shit.  


	6. The Spark Will Now Ignite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, just a warning: with this scene we begin the more intense of the fighting sequences. Check the end notes for full details as to what to expect, but it gets decently graphic. Just a warning.   
> Thanks for reading either way <33 Jump to after the double space between paragraphs for after the graphic business.

They set off immediately for the other realm, Loki taking twenty or so of his strongest men that he could spare, and putting Bylestir on the throne in his absence, along with his war general.  Between the two of them he and Natasha both hoped they could manage to keep the throne intact, and the remaining Jotuns on his side.  After all, what other choice did they have?  She knew he hated leaving, but if there was the slightest chance he could bring Helbindi to heel or to their side once again then it had to be taken.  As it was, Thor had left Frigga in charge of Asgard as he, and a group of the mutants, met them on Vanaheim, near the realm’s capital.  The two estranged brothers shared the briefest of nods in each other’s direction as Natasha came forward to pull Thor into her arms for a quick, tight hug, falling into rank soon afterwards.  She never knew when there’d be another chance for it, and after spotting the warriors for Alfheim among their ranks, she wasn’t about to do anything other than that.  

“Heimdall reported that Helbindi was seen in the village, pillaging and destroying as he wishes.  There are Midgardian homes where he is centering his attack,” Thor said, the group moving as quickly as they could on foot.  They’d picked a spot less than half a mile away, and without any form of jumping between worlds Helbindi wouldn’t be able to escape quickly enough.  Natasha felt her hand immediately shoot towards the knives she’d strapped to either of her thighs, shedding the furs with a softly murmured spell.  He’d done the same and she could see the sweat beading on his brow.  They weren’t used to such heat, especially after Jotuneheim’s climate.  Loki, wisely, stayed near the front, wishing to be the one to see and speak with Helbindi before things grew even more out of control, and though he took his men to the front with him Natasha opted to stay nearer to the other Midgardian and Asgardian fighters, the former’s pace slower than those of the enormous frost giants.  Kitty was among them, tensing and releasing her fists, brow pulled tight.  Natasha wondered if the woman’s nightmares had returned or if she was simply doing this to herself once she caught sight of the deep bags under Kitty’s eyes.  One of the boys, a thin, brown haired one, put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed.  She thanked him, called him Peter quietly, and Natasha’s attention from there was stolen by the crash heard just ahead of them, then kept by the burning fires in the not so distant city.  The wails reminded her far too much of Midgard, if she was being truthful.  

Judging by the tightness on Thor, Sif, and Steve’s faces, they felt the same.  The pace quickened, Thor shouting out directions for the Aesir to go with him, and there were already shouts and bellows from the frost giants that had made it to the clearing first.  Kitty sped up, sinking through the ground and reappearing towards the clearing, Peter launching himself forward with--was that _webbing_?  She didn’t have time to consider it, all of them already speeding to try and get there before any more damage was done.  The tree line was already on fire, and Nat had to skirt around the flames as best she could in order to get the rest of them through it, trying to take point as best she could manage.  She owed them her life, owed them much more than she could ever give for not having gotten through to Thor in time.  This was the least she could do.  A shard of ice narrowly missed her skull, melting as it got too close to the fire, and the giant that had thrown it got Mjolnir thrown in his face as a thanks for his attack.  

Once she’d heard about the attack Natasha had steeled herself for the very worst.  Had she not, she might not have made it through the gore and the massacre that met her.  Pieces, not even whole bodies, were strewn on the ground, some Vanir, some Midgardian, all butchered.  Slaughtered, like damn animals.  The wounds had frozen over before there was even time for the victims to bleed, and judging by the pain and shock that filled what faces she could find she had no reason to believe they had any warning of what was happening until it was already finished and they’d had their bodies severed.  

She still felt her stomach turn, and when Thor ran forward to track Loki and his other men down she caught Steve by the shoulder.  

“Stay with me,” she demanded, her eyes flashing as she caught his.  She didn’t want to be entirely alone.  He called for a few of his own men to stay behind after giving her a quick nod of approval.  

“Help me find the wounded and defenseless.  We need to get them to shelter and safety,” she said, acting as quickly as she knew how.  As though it wasn’t enough that they had Jotuns to deal with, they seemed to have brought marauders with them, bands of ill-fitting scum come to rape and pillage where they could.  One of them dared to get closer to Natasha once the group had disbanded to search, and she sliced through his throat as simply as if she were tearing through a piece of paper.  His body convulsed, spraying blood in an arc that somehow fit her mood, before he collapsed to the ground.  She was far enough away by the time he hit, taking stock of the situation that they’d been dragged into.  The Vanir were a peaceful people, and the Jotuns had seemed to take pleasure in destroying everything of theirs that they could get their frigid hands on, clubs having battered down enormous houses, ice daggers having speared men and women alike as though they were beasts to be slaughtered.  The giants hadn’t, however, banked on the ingenuity of their victims.  The forest that surrounded them had been set ablaze, cutting off the Jotun’s means of escape, trapping them where they were until the fires died down.  Though she was certain they were bigger when they’d first landed, before the fires were set, now, in comparison to their own giants they seemed pathetic almost.  She saw a flash of black hair--still connected to a body--and prayed it was Loki and that he was safe, heard the thunder rumbling overhead as she dragged out one of the bodies from a destroyed hut, the woman shouting about the baby that didn’t move in her arms and swore that if Thor made it out alive she’d be a better wife, a better lover.  Better.  However way the Norns saw fit.  

She just couldn’t lose them.  

One of the mutants had managed to put out the fire to the left of the village, and Steve was leading the way out of it, carrying a little girl on his back and another woman in his arms, followed by a series of others bringing the injured away.  One of the other mutants seemed to be absorbing the energy from the sun that shone above them, turning it into flames, trapping the attacking jotuns from chasing after them.  To say nothing about the marauders, however.  Nat shouted as she threw and buried her knife into the spine of one, running up to twist his neck quick enough to send him to the ground, a boneless heap, in the next few seconds, barely avoiding being slashed by another before she stuck her knife into his eye socket and ripped it back out to allow him to fall.  

Her attention turned to the woman she’d pulled from the wreckage who was shouting at her, demanding she bring her baby back, that she needed her child.  As the woman’s bony fingers extended the pale, limp child in Natasha’s direction, tears in the woman’s deep brown eyes as she gagged on her own sorrow, Nat felt her heart tremble.  

“I can’t.  It’s dead,” she felt herself saying.  “I’m sorry, but we need to get you out of here.”  

The woman blinked once, twice.  Not understanding, she pushed the baby into Natasha’s arms.  “Heal him,” she begged.  “You have magic--do it!”

Natasha felt sick.  All this carnage, all this pain, and it was this child that upset her the most?  

“I can’t, but we need to go.  Please,” she begged, trying to hand the boneless body back to the woman, whose skin grew sallow and her eyes grew blank.  Before Natasha could comprehend what was happening the woman was shrieking something, ripped one of the daggers from Natasha’s side, and Nat had to turn her head to the side to avoid seeing her drag the blade across her throat.  She gasped, tears clouding her vision as she stared at the blood stained grass, and when she looked back at the woman she could barely keep from throwing up.  What in the Hel had she done?  

The baby in Natasha’s arms twitched, growing strength.  No longer did it feel like dead weight in her arms as it began to twitch, and in her shock Natasha nearly dropped it, gasping down at the tiny body in her arms as bright brown eyes stared up at her.  What magic was this?  

She’d have to ask Loki later, the world coming down around her as one of the flaming trees came down to the ground with a crash, shouts of agony coming from friend or foe, Nat couldn’t tell anymore, one of the Jotuns having caught on fire as he fell on the tree.  Clutching the baby closer to her chest, Natasha turned and ran, not trusting herself to stay any longer.  The other men would look after one another, would take care of each other, at least until she could get back to them.  

Steve had managed to find a way to the main city, or at least what she could only assume was the capital of the realm, judging by how much grander everything was.  He’d set up camp with their healers on the edge of it, giving Nat the shortest distance in order to hand the baby off to one of the women already gathered there.  “I don’t . . . he was, I thought he was dead,” she said, trying to find the words to explain what she’d just seen happen, only to have them stillborn on her tongue.  She could hardly believe the child was even moving, let alone cooing and raising one of its arms towards her.  She stumbled backwards, the world suddenly pitching her forward until she hit the grass face first and knew no more.  

 

Something cool was being pressed to her forehead, just as a dull throbbing climbed atop her consciousness and pressed down.  Hard.  She groaned, voice quiet, as she forced herself to open her eyes and blinked through the candle light at the man at her side.  Loki’s face was bruised, and he had a split lip, but he smiled down at her all the same, pulling the damp cloth from her forehead to replace it with his lips.  

“Thank the Norns you’re alive,” he murmured against her skin before he pulled away.  There was a snore from the other side of the room that made her jump, head turning to look far too quickly, a crick forming in her neck even as she noticed Thor sleeping in the chair in the corner.  

Thank the Norns indeed.  She slumped in her bed, slowly turning to smile at Loki.  “What happened?  I remember I brought a baby here and--.”

“You had a rather nasty cut to your side.  Took a few healers in order to get you stitched up properly.  You were so pale when I came back I thought--.”  She watched his adam’s apple bob with his painful swallow, watched him gather himself again.  “We got Helbindi.  He’s in the dungeons right now, under watch by one of the mutants.  Roberto, or Bobby, he calls himself I believe.  They all have a plethora of names and there are so many of them to begin with.”  He sighed and seated himself at chair near her bed.  “How are you?”

“Exhausted.  But good.  Tell me how you got him?  Did we lose many in the attack?”

He shook his head and pressed one of his fingers to her lips.  “Not important.  You’re alive.  That’s what matters.”

“Loki, I watched a woman sacrifice--she literally killed herself and somehow brought her baby to life.  She wouldn’t have had to if we’d found out a way to stop Helbindi in the first place.  This is important,” Nat choked, her eyes brimming with tears she knew she had no control over, as though her body was trying to push the shock out of her as best it could.  “Please. I need to know.”  

Loki grew silent and still beside her, dropping his gaze as his fingers played with the cloth.  “We lost all of the soldiers that came with us from Jotunheim, as well as those whom Helbindi brought with him.  It was only a small faction of his true numbers, though now that he is our prisoner, for lack of a better word, it is unclear whether or not they will follow him should his allegiance change or if they will fight for Thanos.”

“And Helbindi himself?”  She asked, trying not to think of the twenty men who’d died fighting for her and this war they had no other claim in, and how she didn’t even know their damn names.  

“Unsure as to what he’ll do.  He’s badly beaten, but more than that he’s hurt over our father’s actions.  I understand it, but I cannot get through to him that I do not wish to be his enemy.  So, I cannot say what will happen.”

It was understandable.  None of them wanted to get their hopes up, it would only end in disaster.  Oh how the fates loved to toy with their hopes and expectations.  Natasha had already gotten so lucky keeping both of her men at her side for as long as she had, keeping them both alive despite all the odds.  How many more chances was she going to get?

“What about the damage done to Vanaheim?”  She forced herself to ask, clearing her dry throat.  He offered her a goblet of wine, which she accepted with a murmured thanks before downing it.  It was sweet, spicy and warm, and more than that felt like absolute perfection on her throat.  

“Extensive.  That town was obliterated, but more than that the confidence in our cause . . . we won but with very heavy casualties, Natasha.  It will not go unnoticed that we can hardly police and patrol the realms as he have once before.  Since Midgard’s demise, well, having the armies from Alfheim might be our only chance at trying to prove that we can take care of our own and all those under our protection.  I hope.”

He hoped?  They were going to need a great deal more than that, this they both knew.  But he didn’t want to talk about it anymore, instead asking if he could crawl into bed with her.  She nodded, shifting to the side, and with his arm wrapped around her shoulders, her head on his chest, she pretended to fall asleep to the steady beating of his heart.  Only then did he quake beneath her, trembling as he struggled to breathe evenly, and before long she smelled salt in the air.  He didn’t say anything when her arm tightened around his waist, just breathed her in and let out a shaky gasp of pain, one they all felt so keenly.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for suicide, though it's not explicitly detailed, fire/burning, and for gore.


	7. What Would We Say, What Would We Do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, finally got this done! It's a short chapter, but hey it's an update, right? I'm gonna try and be quicker with all my updates, but sometimes life gets in the way. Silly thing.   
> Either way I hope you enjoy! This chapter deffo goes out to Jessy, who inspired the very end of this. Thanks so much for reading!

They couldn’t just leave Vanaheim after what had happened.  The soldiers who hadn’t been injured were instead recruited into assisting the reconstruction and healing of the small village’s homes and market places.  There was little to be done about the destroyed crops or livestock, but at least the assistance rebuilding could be beneficial.  A symbol of Asgard’s sympathies to the families and friends of those remaining.  Thor pledged as much help as he could, but with the overflow from Midgard there were few other sources that hadn’t already been tapped. Natasha heard it all while sitting in his room, Loki still speaking with Vanaheim’s king as Thor consulted Frigga, completely and utterly out of his depth.  He was built for war, not for healing.  There was no one better at that than Frigga.  

She reminded him of his new treaty with Alfheim, and her words brought his head a little higher, straightened his shoulders further.  

“I will speak with their king and ensure that the proper measures are taken,” Frigga promised him.  

“Thank you, mother.”

“And your fiance will be there in the morning.”

He paused, and Nat could feel his muscles growing even more tense beneath her hand.  “Mother--.”

“It will do the people good to see her at your side, assisting in the clean up and helping with Vanaheim’s healing process.  She will meet you in the morning.  Enjoy what time you have.”  She said and even without looking Natasha could imagine the woman’s knowing expression, the back of her neck heating up.  Her attention, meanwhile, was on Thor’s face.  He thanked his mother for her wisdom, and as her image disappeared Thor deflated.  His head fell into his hands, frame beginning to shake.  Natasha’s hand snaked slowly down to his chest, wrapping herself around him and pressing her lips softly to his temples.  She tried not to think that this might be the last time she could do it, the last time she’d be close enough to smell the ozone on his skin, to feel the thrumming of electricity, now lessened in his pain, just beneath the surface.  All of it made her heart ache.  He reached upwards to clasp the side of her head, resting his hand there, too afraid to let go.  Neither spoke, the silence far too heavy to consider traversing through, and as he collected himself she simply encased him as best she could, protecting him in the one way she could, burying her face in his shoulder.  Had their need for supplies, for soldiers, for aid itself not been so great then matters would be different.  But after what she’d seen, the destruction of Vanaheim?  All the lives lost?  Thanos hadn’t targeted their armories or barracks, he hadn’t even gone for the capitol.  He’d hit their homes, not any of the other important organs but the heart itself, without even having to administer a finishing blow.  

When that came, though?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a throat being cleared on the other side of the tent door.  Loki.  Beneath her, Thor’s body tensed, and as Natasha released him he stood tall.  Not for the first time did she wonder when had the carefree prince she’d met and fall for transform into the hardened warrior who stood in front of her then?  

“Come in, Loki,” Thor said, turning to face his brother when he entered the small tent.  If Thor was battle wizened, then Loki was jaded and exhausted.  Natasha could read the stress in his shoulders and how he did all he could to keep from letting them--and himself--fall.  Her poor men.  

“There’s a war council being summoned by King Dra’ace,” he said, voice low.  He’d not shed his Jotun skin, red eyes burning as they stared at Thor, trying to get a read of him the way Natasha had been doing to them both.  She rested a hand on Thor’s shoulder once more, squeezing it through the fabric of his shift, grateful to feel him loosen if only slightly.  

“Then let us hope he has good news.  I am sick to my soul of the bad.”  

Loki nodded his agreement before leading the two out, Natasha falling into step with them both.  As they walked she couldn’t help but stare at the still smouldering piles of wood from the bonfires earlier that morning.  Many of the remaining buildings had been far too damaged to be repaired, and so had to have been broken to pieces and burnt after salvaging what little was still reusable.  Their men were exhausted, disheartened, and yet still they worked, faces drawn and soot covered as they hauled loads of lumber from one site to the next.  Supplies were limited, however.  There was only so much they could do without causing too great a loss to the land, one that would take centuries to repair.  

The council was held in one of the larger tents that had been set up while the Aesir stayed, not wishing to intrude further than they had to on Vanaheim’s hospitality.  The king, a wide, muscular man, black-brown hair braided down his back, sat flanked by two men of his own, and though he spoke to them in a quiet, weary voice his deep brown eyes were alert, calculating the three newcomers.  The guards standing just inside tensed, relaxing only as Dra’ace welcomed Loki, Thor, and Natasha.  Well, not Natasha.  He left her out, pointedly she could only assume.  It wasn’t as though he wasn’t familiar with her on her other visits to Vanaheim to ensure that her people were being well taken care of.  She felt, rather than saw, Thor’s fury crackling on his skin, but took him by the elbow.  Times were tense, she could understand even if she didn’t like it, but the last thing they needed was to isolate Dra’ace from helping them further.  

They sat in a round, a hologram of Vanaheim taking up the space in the very center.  From there Natasha could see the extent of the damage.  Helbindi hadn’t simply gone for the people but the land around them as well.  Far plots of burned forest, like great scars on the land, stretched for miles past what they’d considered to be the damaged portion.  Centuries, now, seemed like a best case scenario for how long it would take to recover their losses.  

“We will open trade with the dwarves and barter with them to recover the lumber that was lost,”  Thor assured Dra’ace, steely gaze meeting the Vanir king’s.  

“Will they respond?”  The man’s gaze flicked to Loki, who clenched his jaw and his hands at his sides.  Nat had heard that tale before, had traced the faint lines over Loki’s lips where he’d been forced to keep his silence.  She pressed her arm against his, the cool of his skin as comforting to her as the warmth of hers seemed to be.  

“I will handle the matter personally,” Thor insisted, bringing the king’s calculating gaze back to him.  

“Of course.  The lumber is the least of our worries.  Loki, you reported having lost all of your men that you’d brought and Thor your losses were reported in the thirties?”

“Twenty-eight,” Thor said, voice rough.  Natasha had watched him personally say a prayer to the Norns for each soldier they’d lost, shed tears of her own as she watched Kitty’s pyre catch in a great wave of flame, the embers stretching and reaching towards Valhalla.  

“And how many more on Asgard?  On Jotunheim?”

They rattled off numbers too low to give Natasha courage, or Dra’ace it seemed, courage.  The king’s face tightened.  “And Alfheim has pledged its support as well?”

“Aye, twelve-hundred warriors ready--.”

“Twelve-hundred?!”  Dra’ace shouted.

“And around fifteen-hundred still training,” Thor continued, as though the outburst hadn’t happened.  Beside her, Loki reached for his dagger, fingers tightening on the hilt.  She, too, grew still and hardened her gaze at the king, unsure what to expect from him.  If he withdrew his support Asgard would be finished without a doubt.  They couldn’t afford more losses.  

“There are still others who could be persuaded to help,” Natasha said.  “Thanos is a galaxy-wide threat, not simply our own.”

Dra’ace’s face contorted, lips turning upwards in a smirk that wasn’t at all demeaning, the same one given to a child who tried to play games while the adults were busy.  She pushed down the indignation rising like the tide within her.  “And whom, madam,” the word dripped with sarcasm as his gaze flicked to Thor, Loki, then Natasha in turn.  “Might you suggest?  Several of the Jotun have already rallied against us, the Kree follow Thanos because they believe him to be the very best option, and there are rumors the Dark Elves themselves have joined his forces.  Whom else could possibly assist us?”  He leaned back in his seat, broad arms stretched across his chest while Natasha purposefuly kept eye contact.  She wouldn’t back down to some sexist asshole.  She’d been playing men her whole life, and she couldn’t see how this was any different.  

“I’ve met once with the king of Muspelheim, I will go and speak with him--.”

“Lord Katrik will not speak with you, though you might still be useful and worm your way into his son’s bedchambers--.”

The slam of Thor’s fist on the table made near everyone seated jump, Dra’ace’s advisors looking nauseous as the scent of ozone spiked the air.  

“You will reconsider your slight against the Lady Natasha,” Thor snarled as he rose to his feet.  The look on his face would’ve made a lesser man tremble, but Dra’ace simply sat back in his seat, face impassive.  

“She is the reason this has all come to pass--.”

“Thanos is the reason, you witless swine,” Thor spat, thoughts of diplomacy flying out the window.  Natasha hastened to take him by the wrist, and her magic flared just below her skin’s surface.  Unbidden, it latched onto Thor’s strength and tugged him back, absorbing the crackling energy until he dropped into his seat beside her.  

“There are others.”  Loki, who’d been remarkably quiet during that all, stared at Natasha, his face set in a grim expression she’d seen only after he’d confessed to Odin’s death.  “Hela--.”

“Your charge is far too weak to be of any use,” Dra’ace said with a roll of his eyes.  “And if you think this will dissuade me from breaking--.”

“Hela told me of a force too great to be known by many.  There are several lesser beings that believe they do not exist, and so write them off.”  The look in the Vanaheim king’s direction was deliberate enough to make the man’s hackles raise.  “But should the proper leverage be obtained, and the terms iron-clad, then Thor, your grandfather may be of some use to us in the middle of this mayhem.”  

The gravity of these words was lost on Natasha, who knew only of Bor’s existence and his superb fighting skills while defending Asgard.  The others, however, went very still.  

“Loki,” Thor said, voice so quiet it was a miracle Natasha could hear him at all.  “The Disir cannot be controlled.”

“I do not mean to control them.  I mean to unleash them.  What better prey is there for them than Death herself and the Titan who seeks her out?”  

Dra’ace, it seemed for once, had nothing to say.  


	8. Forget The Name, Forget The Fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, school's starting up again, and ideally this'll be the last semester I've got! Yay! Unfortunately, though, this does mean that I've gotta start doing hw again and getting my shit in gear, so as slow as the updates have been, they might slow down again.   
> Or speed up because I'm putting off doing what I ought to be doing. God only knows.   
> Anyway, hope you're enjoying this! Thanks so much for reading!

Aelyn, princess of Alfheim and Thor’s intended, arrived on the very same day that Loki left, departing to visit Hela in order to bargain for the right to speak with the Disir and use them in combat if they agreed to it.  At Nat’s confused expression the previous day he’d explained to her how the cannibalistic Valkyrie’s of Bor’s time had been bound to his word upon their banishment.  If they fed on the Aesir’s energy and life force in the past, how would they fare with so many other factions of beings to feast on?  That was at least how Loki saw it, and Natasha had to admit that it made sense to her.  For the first time in quite a long while she felt his enthusiasm.

Felt hope.  It was strange to consider such a thing could still exist at a time such as that, and she kissed him deeply before he left, giving him her very best and praying for a quick return.  The sooner he got the others on their side the sooner they could tip the scales.  The sooner they could think about things getting back to normal.  

And then Aelyn had stepped from the Bifrost, transported, courtesy of Frigga, and that hope dimmed slightly.  She was lovely, a demure smile tipping her thin lips, skin milky white and blonde hair braided down her back bright as the midday sun.  Natasha's throat seized up as she watched Thor step forward to greet his fiance, kissing her cheek and welcoming her.  At least his words sounded sincere, even if Nat could catch how hollow his eyes were.  Aelyn thanked him as though nothing was wrong, stepping over to where Natasha was standing and smiled, taking her hands in hers.  

“We are to be sisters in a sense,” she said with a kind smile, and leaned closer to kiss Natasha on the cheek.  The redhead repeated the gesture, only then noticing that Aelyn had brought two others with her, a woman perhaps a few years older than her, skin a gorgeous olive and deep brown eyes taking in the world around her, as well as another man that ought to have been Aelyn’s twin.  He kept silent, even as Thor greeted them and they were introduced by the princess to be Carissa and Jerome, the latter turning out to be Aelyn’s sibling as Natasha had predicted.  While he moved to speak with Thor, Natasha just barely able to hear the two carrying on about the treaties between the two realms and the help that would be expected to come from Alfheim to aid in Vanaheim’s reconstruction and continued safety, Natasha kept a close eye on the other two women.  They were speaking softly to one another in a language Natasha couldn’t understand, feeling very much the outsider, but it was more than that.  There was something different about how the two women spoke, that Carissa kept pressing her thumb into Aelyn’s palm and drawing soft circles in her skin, that they were close enough to--.

“My Lady Natasha,” Aelyn’s face turned to her, her smile near splitting her face.  “Would you be so good as to walk with me and show me who needs our help?  I would be more than happy to assist however I can.”  

“Sure thing,” Natasha nodded, taking the hem of her dress in one hand and moving towards the pair, explaining to them what had happened, where had been hit the hardest.  Well, she explained to Aelyn, mostly.  She wasn’t sure that Carissa understood her.  

“Have the Jotuns been rounded up?”  Aelyn asked, tipping her head to the side.  Nat felt her jaw clench, not caring much for the way that the princess had worded it.  They weren’t cattle, or a herd of sheep to be herded and taken to the slaughterhouses.  

“Those who fought against us perished, but as did those who fought beside us.  The remaining frost giants are on Jotunheim training and preparing themselves for what is to come.”  Her voice was as frosty as those who they were speaking about, but she didn’t apologize for it.  Wouldn’t.  Aelyn would find out soon that they weren’t the monsters she would have heard of growing up.  

“And what is to come, my lady Natasha?”  Aelyn asked, tipping her head to the side in curiosity.  Her eyes were warm and inviting, as though she wanted nothing more than to hear what it was Natasha had to say, had no other interests aside from the war and the statistics that Natasha was providing.  

“I’m sure your brother is discussing it with Thor at the moment,” Natasha said with an easy smile of her own.  They’d begun to take a turn around the clearing that Aelyn had appeared in, Carissa just a few paces behind them, fingers twitching nervously at her side, eyes constantly darting around.  Were it not for that she’d have thought her a handmaiden, but her nature was far too on alert.  A guard?   They seemed near too close to simply be that, but Nat would keep her mind open.  

“Oh, yes,” Aelyn gave an embarrassed, small laugh, the sound similar to that of nails tapping on glass as she twisted her hands in her lap.  “Of course.  I only ask because they do not . . . well, after all has been said and done I am rarely clued into what is happening.  I do not often get the courtesy of knowing what is to pass or to come until it already has, and I thought that you might be more willing to be honest with me.  After all, we are both of us women thrown into a society that neither has any real use for us or need for us outside of the bedchambers.”  

Her words had a ring of bitterness that even left a bad taste in Natasha’s mouth as she heard them, compassion welling in Natasha’s chest to hear it.  Though she’d been fortunate enough to have been treated as a warrior for most of her life, both on Midgard and Asgard, if she’d felt hopeless while in those situations it must’ve been terrible to be a woman with very little power, physical or material, growing up in a time such as the one they were in.

“Well, we’ve been doing all we can to help rebuild the houses and undo the damage that has been done, no matter how extensive it is.  Dra’ace doesn’t seem so convinced now, but he will be when Thor holds to his promises.  He--well, he’s an honorable man who keeps his word no matter how difficult the circumstance.”  Natasha assured Aelyn, who smiled in an understanding fashion.  Helbindi had known about Natasha and Thor, but she wondered just how far that information spread, whether or not Aelyn knew about it.  She hoped not.  The last thing she needed was her future sister-in-law to know . . . well, she wasn’t ready to divulge that much information to the woman yet.  

“How did the king take it?”  Aelyn was asking, snapping Nat out of her reverie.  “He’s such a proud man from my understanding of him.”  Aelyn winced, her tiny lips pulled in a delicate mou of disapproval, as though she was unpleased with the idea of working with Dra’ace.  Natasha could hardly blame her after how she’d been treated by the so called king.  Still, irritating though he was, they needed him.  More importantly they needed his men.  

“I think he’s frightened.  He puts on a good show, but our numbers are not ideal.” Natasha grimaced.  “It worries him now that his land has been gouged for the sake of sport.  And it’s understandable.  Thanos is a master manipulator and planner.”  She paused.  “But so is Loki, and so am I.  So long as we can rally from this, we can win.  We just need the upper hand.  Just once.”  

She smiled encouragingly at Aelyn, willing her to share in her confidence, even as she seemed to be carefully absorbing what it was Natasha had said.  Too carefully, almost.  Perhaps she was too paranoid.  It wouldn’t have surprised her, but she had a right to be after what had happened as of late.  

“So, you will keep Alfheim’s help and goals aligned with our own, won’t you?”  Natasha asked pointedly, throwing the princess for a quick loop, eager to take her off guard and figure out what was behind all those pretty, practiced smiles.  

“Me?”  Her eyes widened, lips parting in surprise. “I’m not given any power or control over it.”  There was a near apologetic smile on her face, as if she actually felt bad for Natasha’s mistake.  “I am not sure what sort of influence you women are given here, but on Alfheim it is not common for the women to get any say in near anything.  How I wish I was allowed your same influence.”  

“Well things are far different here, then,” Natasha said, throwing a look back to Carissa, still standing just behind Aelyn.  If that was the case why was she even allowed out of the palace to begin with?  Shouldn’t she have been protected behind thick walls if they insisted on treating her like glass?  “Frigga resides as Queen in Thor’s place and he’s always been good at valuing the opinions of others, no matter what their defining traits are.”

“Even King Loki, and you as his wife?”  

Her jaw clenched.  “Yes.  Even my husband and I.”  The woman’s prejudice, while Natasha had fully anticipated it, grated her nerves.  What did this woman have against those who were different than her own perfect self?  Not all of them could be fair and without blemish.  She knew the Jotuns were not without blemish, but neither were the Aesir and Aelyn seemed far too keen on jumping into bed--.  

She didn’t want to think about that.  Either way, she gritted her teeth.  It would be all the more satisfying when Loki proved them all wrong, silencing those disgusting rumors forever.  After all they were helping, wasn’t that enough?  She certainly thought so.  Loki wasn’t without fault, that Natasha knew all too damn well, but he was at least working on it.  She shoved her reservations about the woman to the back of her mind as she watched Aelyn with a keen eye as she greeted those who were working in the nursery tent.  Many of the Vanir, not having the time or strength to watch their child as they helped with the reconstruction of the country.  There Natasha caught sight of the baby she’d seen come back to life, shivering on the memory.  How that mother had known what to do, had even done it for her son--.  Would she do anything different for Thor, or Loki?  Her chest clenched, breath going out of her in a forceful sigh.  No, no she wouldn’t.  Aelyn kept busy speaking with the nurses, her maid keeping close by, as Natasha moved off, gravitating towards the child.  Despite all that the realm had been through, this child, this baby boy, cooed and stretched fat fingers up to the nurse’s hair, taking fistfuls of it but not pulling, as though he was just curious and wanted to touch it.  The woman looked less than pleased before she screwed up her face into one of pleasure as soon as she saw Natasha.  Perhaps Nat wasn’t as invisible or unknown as she’d hoped, or it was simply because she’d come in with the princess.  

“Milady.  How can I help you?”  The woman asked, brown eyes fixed on Natasha in curiosity.  She wasn’t in charge or important, Natasha could all but hear her think, so why was she being approached?  Nat’s attention turned to the child, whose green gaze fixed on her, rather intently for a young infant, Nat thought.  

“I, ah, what’s his name?”  She asked, stumped for words for the first time she could remember.  

The nurse’s eyes saddened at that, the lines around her lips hardening.  “He doesn’t seem to have one.  No one has come to claim him, and as far as we can tell he has no family.  You were the one to bring him in, weren’t you?”

Natasha nodded, her mouth growing dry.  “His mother didn’t--there wasn’t any time or--weren’t his eyes brown?”

The nurse looked down at the boy in her arms and looked as though she couldn’t have cared less.  “Yesterday they were sky blue. I’ve stopped paying attention.  Would you like to hold him, milady?”  

Would she?  She held her arms out without another word, just a simple nod in response, and the weight of the baby was pressed into her grip, tightening her throat with memories as the boy reached up to her hair to feel it the same way he’d done to the nurse.  The latter looked relieved at the displacement of the child, bustling away without anything else to say to Nat.  Not that she took much notice, if she was honest.  Her gaze fixed on the boy in her arms and brought one of her fingers to his, grinning when he took her finger in his own hand and brought it to his mouth, sucking on the appendage.  The few sparse curls on his head shifted color, taking on Natasha’s shocking red hue so quickly and easily she nearly lost her breath.  How  was that even possible?

“Aren’t you a wonder?”  She murmured to the infant, who cooed up at her, wide grin showing empty gums and a bright pink mouth. She couldn’t stop herself from smiling in return, and stayed with him until Aelyn circled back around to her.  

“He’s adorable,” she said as she brought her hand to his curls, her eyes lighting up.  “Is he yours?”  

Nat shook her head.  “No, I saved him during the fight.  His mother--she passed.”  Nat said with a tight swallow.  The nurse moved back to collect the small baby, murmuring how sweet he was though it didn’t quite meet her eyes.  Nat tensed, not wanting to let him go, though with Aelyn’s eyes on her and the nurse’s expectant gaze she couldn’t quite refuse.  The world they were living in wasn’t conducive to raising a child, especially not with a target on the back of her head.  Thanos knew her, knew already what buttons to push if he needed to get to her. The last thing she needed to do was bring a child into that.  

It didn’t stop her from choking out “Alexei,” when the nurse took him back.  “If no one comes to claim him, or give a name.  He just shouldn’t be without one.”  It was all she could offer, her heart aching.  She was going soft, and it was dangerous, but dammit she couldn’t just let that go.  Still, she let herself be dragged away, mind heavy as Aelyn started talking about children, not waiting for Natasha to do more other than to nod or hum her understanding.  Natasha could hardly remember her own mother from before the war, feeling as though that was a whole life time ago, and so who was to say that she would be any good at raising a child?  Alexei had already escaped death and suffering once, she didn’t want to run the gambit of subjecting him to more.  

 

While they didn’t have the resources or the time to plan anything extravagant for Aelyn and her family’s arrival, dinner that evening was a far more enjoyable affair than normal.  Dra’ace smiled, energized by the arrival of allies and what the light elves had brought, and his cheeks reddened as he and Jerome continued to drink more and more.  Thor engaged Aelyn in conversation with ease, her eyes bright with his attention, fingers of her left hand threaded with his.  Natasha couldn’t watch for long without getting sick to her stomach, even as she forced herself to eat, her eyes focusing on her plate.  It was all she could do to keep herself from losing it whenever Thor’s genuine, booming laugh would echo.  

She hadn’t anticipated Carissa to plop down beside her, jaw tight and eyes bright with anger.

“Tell me about Thor,” she said without preface.  Natasha blinked once, twice.  What?  

“What is there to tell?”  She asked, taking in the woman’s narrowed gaze, the stiff shoulders, white knuckles.  Hell, Nat didn’t even think Carissa knew the All-Speak, let alone was willing to speak with her.  “What do you want to know, Carissa?”  

“What type of man is he?  Will he treat my lady well?”  She demanded, color rising in her cheeks as though she’d had too much to drink.  

“He will.”  Natasha insisted.  “He’s kind, a good king.  Your lady will want for nothing,” Natasha said, the words feeling hollow and tasting of ash.  Carissa rolled her eyes, fingers tapping quickly on the wooden table beneath them.  Nervously, almost.  

“Is he free with his affections, attentive, kind?  I’ve seen him fight in the past, there was  a tournament some time back in which he fought in a melee.  He is a brutal warrior,” she spat the word, as though it were poison.  “But should he harm my lady--.”

“She will be well looked after,” Natasha said, trying to shift her attention away.  This was not something she wanted to think of, not what she wanted to realize.  Her time with her lover was swiftly passing, if it hadn’t gone already.  “Why are you coming to speak with me?  I’ve only known him for a short amount of time.  The Lady Sif, surely, would be the wiser choice--.”

“You have been intimate with him.  Short though your time has been--.”

“I am married,” Natasha hissed, heart thudding faster.  Worst kept secret, she supposed.  

“Yet you were still intimate, and your husband did not seem to mind.”  Carissa reminded her.  “I did not come to speak of your marital status, simply your connection with Thor, your experience of him.  Will he harm her?”

“You do not listen when I speak so why should I bother to answer?”  Natasha demanded in a low voice before she shoved away from the table.  She’d had enough, resigning herself to a sleepless night and training in the morning to keep her mind from the empty bed she’d be forced to sleep in that evening.  For half a moment she wondered about simply sneaking into Thor’s room and--.

What, snuggling up with Aelyn and Thor?  It was laughable, ridiculous, and not until she got back to her room, back against the door and shoulders shaking as she forced her eyes shut and bit her tongue to keep quiet, did she realize how alone she was.  


	9. Fight Like Animals, Fight Like Men

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long wait, but I hope that the chapter is worth it! Thanks for reading!

Aelyn and Natasha kept pace with the healing of Vanaheim, both working in what small ways they were allowed to.  If Asgard had been restrictive in what it would and wouldn’t allow her to do, Vanaheim seemed to derive joy from her feeling superfluous and unnecessary.  Most days were spent in the nursery, Nat trying to sneak away to speak with Thor, though he was more often than not already busy, working with Dra’ace and Jerome to finish negotiating just what Asgard could and could not do, and how Alfheim fit in with the rest of it.  Sif and Steve had left as well, Sif having apologized on her way out. They had so much more training to do now that they’d lost as many people as they had, and Nat couldn't exactly fault her for that.  Her good friend made an exceptional captain of the guard, and more than once Natasha was proud of all she’d accomplished, especially given what they’d been through.  It was her way of making amends for what had happened, the three possessed by the Berserker powers having taken it more than just personally that they’d played a part in the destruction that had set everything off, and really Nat couldn’t help but feel the same way.  Had she not interefered, had she been honest with Thor and Loki from the very beginning.  Or just stuck a knife in Odin’s gut the first chance she got.  That, too, would’ve been a damn treat.  Those thoughts got her through the tedious hours spent with the children, her muscles aching from holding them back and forth, up and down, rather than from going to the sparring range and proving herself, fingers numb from braiding hair and helping change diapers rather than stringing a bow and firing arrows.  Alexei kept her attention more than he should’ve, making her smile every time he would reach out to her, hair adopting the red hue of Natasha’s own.  Sweet boy.  

Even he wasn’t enough to keep her attention so solely focused as the other women who she worked with.  Her heart ached to be out with the other soldiers, so much so that she couldn’t help herself from slipping out on a particularly nice afternoon, a week or so after Aelyn had arrived, Loki still not having come back.  She needed a distraction from thinking too hard about that, or about why the attempts she’d made to scry with him had failed, and right then the sound of metal striking metal, the men practicing closer than they had previously, was too sweet to pass up.  Aelyn and Carissa were cooing over one of the little girls’ dresses, Alexei slept, and Nat was exhausted of playing.  Of pretending.  Of smiling and telling the children their parents loved them very much and would see them soon.  Damn near broke her heart to see them grow more tired of the excuses why their parents never came back from the fields until days later, spending their evenings in the nursery with the rest of the children whose family had been called out to help rebuild far away from their homes.  

She wasn’t sure how much more she could take, could be expected to take, honestly.  She was a warrior, not a wet nurse. With ease she found herself moving through the empty field that stood between the small penned fence where the children were allowed to play and where she could hear the enticing sounds of a fight, the men cheering one another on without care for how loud or raucous they were being.  Her heart skipped at the sound.  She could never content herself with simply staying stagnant, in one place, when her blood sang for the same movement life itself was derived from.  

The men were so caught up in their diversions, their small game, they hardly noticed Natasha had entered, finding an abandoned sword and gripping the hilt tight.  The weight and length of it were off but she could compensate for that easily enough.  Guessing by the way the defender, encircled by his peers and other onlookers, was moving, sluggish and ill thought out, it wouldn’t be too long before he was down and out.  His armor was thick, slowed him down, and his opponent’s dark armor had no similar restrictions, the brown haired man’s movements quick and fluid, counterpointing the poor movement of the other’s.  He was losing, badly, weak from swinging his sword as though he was hacking at a tree as the brunette man playfully struck him on the back, a laugh in the air as the man went bumbling forward.  

“Relax,” the potential victor was saying, voice a deep rumble that tugged on the edge of Nat’s mind.  “You struggle too much.  Let it come naturally.”  

“Shuddup,” the other man snarled, rushing at him once again.  Far too slow.  The man in the dark armor slipped out of the way, the flat of his blade smacking the back of the other man’s knee, forcing him forward.  The sword dropped from his hand.  He reached to grab it, but the blade of the victor impaled itself in the small space between his pointer and middle finger.  A hush fell, silencing the once rowdy crowd in an instant.  Nat looked to them all in confusion, blood spiked with intrigue.  What was expected of the victor?  Of the vanquished?  

She caught a flash of gold eyes as the man still standing took a quick circle around the other, still on hands and knees.  He reached out to grab the bottom man by the back of the neck, squeezing even as the man grunted and kicked out in pain.  Yet he never tried to pull away.  His fingers clawed at the dirt until they bloodied, and had she not been so transfixed Nat might’ve called for him to stop.  She thought she saw something silvery leave the man, rising like smoke without a flame, and the brunette’s lips spread into a wide, jagged teeth smile, one that was too animal to be purely human, and yet--.  

And yet she recognized the wolf on his armor, her eyes widening as she watched Fenrir release the man with a howling laugh, eyes burning brighter as he reclaimed his sword from the ground and let the other man fall to the side.  

“Is there no one else who’ll fight me?”  He asked, looking around the crowd as a pair of men rushed to the side of the fallen.  Nat caught the shallow breaths that moved his plain breastplate, relieved for it.  Unsurprisingly no one else stepped forward.  After that display even Natasha’s knees were feeling slightly weak, unsure just how Fenrir had gotten there, or even what he’d done.  He had yet to notice her, or recognize her if he’d caught sight of her, too busy parading around the center of the circle, calling out the men who’d once thought to challenge him, finger jabbed in their direction, pink tongue lolling out of his mouth as he watched with earnest eagerness to see if anyone else was brave enough.  

Nat’s stomach tightened and her feet carried her forward before she even realized what the hell she was doing.  “Fenrir,” she said, voice stronger than she’d have guessed, watching his spine go ramrod straight at the sound of it.  “I’ll fight you.”  

She’d just had to look for something to keep her entertained, didn’t she?  

The man turned to look at her, and if he’d been grinning before he looked positively mad with glee right then.  “My lady, and queen,” he gave a bow that seemed more mocking than anything else, as the crowd parted to let her through.  Dammit, she really hadn’t wanted him to make such a big deal of it, hoping he’d have just taken it at face value.  As if she’d be so bloody lucky.  “I’m surprised to see you here.  Loki didn’t tell me he was in Vanaheim.”  

“He’s on business, and I wasn’t under the impression that we were here to speak of my husband but to fight,” she said, allowing herself a smile, even as Fenrir gave her a quick up down.  

“You’re not quite dressed for it, and I’m not certain if I’m ready to fight you. You, who helped to vanquish the skrull armies as they decimated Midgard.”  He played it off with a laugh, eyes bright but not anywhere near taking her seriously.  She didn’t like that.

“What I could,” Natasha amended.  

“Take the compliment,” he teased, sticking his sword in the ground in front of him, surveying her as though she was bare in front of him.  She refused to back down, even as the heat crawled up her chest and threatened to burn her face.  She took a deep breath to keep herself calm.  She twisted the sword in her hand, growing familiar with its weight and her lips twisted into a smile that wasn't entirely friendly.  

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of me, Fenrir,” she teased, goading him in a way that she might regret.  The way his eyes flashed told her just as much.  She couldn’t back down now, though, not when she’d called him out in front of everyone.  She steeled herself, a smirk giving her words strength.  She had the advantage of just having seen him fight, even if he didn’t look as though he’d expended any energy.  He released a quiet laugh, his eyes dimming to a golden glow as he picked his sword back up and pointed the tip at her.  

“As you wish.  You certain you don’t want to dress in something else?”  

Oh, she certainly longed for the strength and familiarity of her catsuit, so long since she’d worn it she wondered if she could even think of how to create and summon it.  She’d gotten better, mostly, and squeezed her eyes to give it a try to alter the plain blue gown she’d dressed in that morning.  She knew it worked by the hiss that went up around her.  She doubted they’d ever seen a woman outside the bedroom dressed in so little, or something as tight as the leather that encased her.  

“Will this suffice?”  She asked, eyes opening and trying not to grin at the shock that outlined Fenrir’s face.  

“I’ll say it will,” he said with a nod and a laugh.  “Shouldn’t have expected anything less from Loki’s wife.”

“Oh please.  I held a great many tricks before he was ever a consideration in my life,” she said with a roll of her eyes, keeping her tone light, but it was really wearing on her.  Loki’s wife, would that all she ever was seen as?  Loki’s wife, the woman who learned everything from her trickster lover.  No, that wasn’t enough for her.  She was her own person, and she’d be damned if they didn’t know it by the end.  She stretched, feeling the fabric move with her, caressing and holding her tight as a lover, as she breathed deep the scent of earth and musk and the blood that already coated the ground.  Fenrir paused, his gaze darkening further as he considered her, showing sharpened teeth when he spoke.  

“One last thing before you do this,” he said, voice heavy with insinuation.  Her mind flashed back to the silver vapors that had risen from his fallen opponent before.  It made sense that Fenrir would have magic of her own, but just what the hell was it?  Her skin burned with the thought.  

“When I win I take something from my opponent--just a year of your life, nothing too horrific.”  He said.  “But you must promise not to charge your husband on me should I win.  You act on your own volition and Loki has nothing to do with it.”

A year.  How was that even possible?  She knew some of Loki’s magic got dark, but she didn’t think he’d ever dabbled in something like that.  Then again, she’d never asked.  

“And if I win?”  She asked, glad her voice offered more bravado than she fully felt.  The question took him off guard, shock once more playing across his face.  He needed to work on that.  

“What would you have of me, my fealty?”  He asked, shifting from one foot to another.  

She laughed. “You owe my husband that already, I’d rather you keep him safe.  You’ll owe me a favor.”  

He gritted his teeth, brow furrowed with her suggestion.  Why?  “Give me a tangible stake.”  He growled out.  

“One.  Favor.  Or nothing, and when I win all others will know you do not fight with fair stakes.”  

Whatever few conversations that had cropped up silenced at the growl that spilled from Fenrir’s throat.  His hand tightened on the hilt of his sword and pulled it up, out of the ground.  “You’re as tricky as your husband.”  

“Oh, I’m far more different than he is than you can imagine,” she smirked.  “Now, do you agree?”  

“Aye.”  He agreed with a tip of his head, breathing deep as he pulled himself together and she moved to square against him.  The laughter on his face that had shown up when he’d recognized her disappeared, turning instead to concentration and even irritation.  If he was irritated with her now, he was in for a treat when they got started .

She moved first, shifting to the side face enough to set his hackles rising, his eyes zeroing in on her movement rather than her weapon.  His own moved in anticipation of her attack, the blade singing as it moved through the air, and she shifted to the side as it moved to slash her on the left.  Her right foot planted itself as her left moved to kick out at his side, meeting with the solid metal but feeling him shift with the force of her kick.  While he brought his sword back she met his, the swords ringing sweet as any bell, before her leg swung out again to kick his chest.  She had to drop to avoid his surprised slash out at her, and her legs kicked out to try and floor him.  He avoided it, twisting to the side with a speed that surprised her given his size.  It wasn’t unlike fighting Steve, if Rogers had been as good with a sword as Fen was.  His talents laid more with his fists and while Fenrir’s speed helped him evade Nat’s blows, his sword was clunky.  She gave hers up when another of his swipes knocked it to the side, and instead she let it fly to the left, watched his gaze follow it as she kicked on his right, opting instead for a dagger that she kept at the side of her suit.  He took her feet out from under her soon enough, and she had to roll quickly to avoid being sliced.  She’d been afraid of that, that her goading might get the best of him, and when his eyes flashed bright gold she had a nasty feeling she knew why.  Oops?  

It did make her path all that clearer, she had no choice this time. Friend of Loki’s he may have been, but she’d wound him up a little too tightly in her desire to make him sloppy.  She should’ve banked on him being angry and vengeful as well.  

Still.  She pulled her head back into the fight when the tip of his blade brushed her left shoulder, slitting the leather and drawing blood.  She was determined not to let the discomfort show on her face, after all she’d had far worse, but she wasn’t happy with him drawing first blood.  Her efforts redoubled, movements gaining in speed, a speed he grew to match.  His sword would swing just as quick as she’d duck to avoid it.  She managed to slice at the back of his left leg.  He stumbled and brought the hilt crashing on the crown of her head.  Dazed, he got a chance to shove her backwards, onto her back.  When she tried to flip back up his foot found her chest and pushed her so hard she felt her ribs creak.  He wasn’t grinning anymore, hair wild and making him look more like a wolf than a man  than ever before.  She stabbed at his foot with the knife, aiming for the underside of his boot, and he howled as she pulled away.  Head cleared by her panic she flew into him, knife still and hand pressed to his throat.  Her legs came on either side of his arms, tightening as he tried to move beneath her.  She barely held on as he thrashed, spitting and snarling at the woman above him.  

There was absolute silence as Nat’s body moved with Fenrir’s.  She’d certainly rode crazier.  The thought made her laugh.  Beneath her Fen looked murderous, purple in the face, until it broke half a second later.  His face and body relaxed with the sound, stilling beneath her.  Only when he, too, began to laugh and formally yielded did she release him.  One of the men from the side rushed over with a healing stone for Fenrir’s foot, though he refused one for his leg and Nat declined the one offered for her shoulder.  At least the sting would be something new to concentrate on.  

She helped Fen up once he was healed and handed him back his sword.  “Hell of a fight,: she complimented.  His lips twisted not at all sarcastically.  

“You as well.  Forgive me for being lewd, but I understand now why Loki’s so keen to stay between your legs.”  

“I’ve certainly been told worse so I’ll take that as a compliment,” she smirked, playfully punching his shoulder and wishing she hadn’t when her knuckles stung from hitting the metal.  He only laughed the harder for it.  

To her surprise no one had noticed she’d gone as she slipped back into the nursery tent, dressed once more in the gown expected of her though her dagger remained at her side, hidden in the folds of her dress.  Or at least she’d thought she’d been quick and sneaky enough.  One of the women rushed to her, clasping her hands and looking stricken.  

“My lady!  We’d thought something terrible had happened,” she hissed, her concern echoed by anger.  “Princess Aelyn and Lady Carissa have gone to look for you and seek help.”  

“I suppose I ought to go find them, then,” Nat said without the faintest strain of contrition.  Was she to apologize for feeling alive for the first time in days?  No.  She wouldn’t.  She slipped her hands from the woman’s and excused herself.  At least she could get more fresh air.  

She stepped outside in the direction the woman had pointed her in, the two apparently having thought she’d disappear into the forest.  Strange. W hat would have made them think that, and wouldn’t it have been more daunting to go there with just the two of them?  Either way she kept a hand near enough to her knife that she could get to it in a hurry if she needed.  Her blood still felt heated with the adrenaline that rushed through her veins.  As she walked through the forest, she marked her way on the north side of the trees she passed, just in case.  The last thing she needed after a victory was a defeat in the form of a damn forest, and the deeper she got, the fainter the noises of the clearing became, the more worried she became.  Freaking idiots.  

“They better have gone back to the castle I swear to--.”  Voices cut off her grumbling, soft, distinctly feminine.  Her stomach lurched.  Finally!  What the hell were they doing so far back?  Had they really managed to get themselves lost?  Neither seemed to be moving however, and as she listened harder the soft sounds turned rather.  Well, it made her stomach seize up.  This was not a conversation she needed to be hearing.  

So why the hell was she stepping closer?  She made sure every step was silent as a soft smacking resounded through the otherwise silent clearing.  

“Can’t, _oh_ , say for long.  Jerome might start looking.”  Aelyn keened, the sound so sweet it hurt to hear.  

“This is the first we’ve gotten away from him for a week.  I don’t care,” Carissa moaned, pulling away with a wet smack”I don’t like the idea of you and that idiot.”  

“I told you he’s been--oh, _oh_!--understa- _ah_ -nding.  Norns Carissa,” she whimpered.  Nat turned to stone.  She didn’t need to get closer, didn’t need to see what she could already imagine.  Carissa’s questions about Thor made sense now, she thought, swallowing thickly.  

“I don’t want his hands on you,” Aelyn groaned.  “Or his mouth on you.”  There was a long, wet sound, covered by Aelyn’s louder moan.  “Or his co--.”

“Don’t tell me you have one of those,” Aelyn’s voice was shaking with desire and laughter.  “That would surprise even--Carissa, don’t do that.  Come here,” she crooned, and there was the rustle of grass, the slight snapping of twigs.  Nat could make out muffled hums and groans meant for ears that weren’t Natasha’s.  

“I love _you_ , Carissa.  I always will,” Aeyn’s voice was honey sweet and tender.  “We’ll figure it out.  Perhaps Natasha--.”

“We can’t tell her,  She fought against me when I brought it up.  She has her own husband.”  

“Love doesn’t vanish because of vows,” Aelyn hummed and it was time for Nat to go.  Just as quietly as she’d made her way there she disappeared through the forest, assuming that with Carissa they’d both be able to get back.  Her head, meanwhile, spun with what had happened.  

And what the hell was she going to tell Thor?  


	10. Dark Clouds Start to Seethe Right Above

 

 _What the hell am I going to say?  What_ can _I say?  Thor, I’m sorry darling, but your soon to be wife doesn’t want your company because she’s sleeping with her handmaiden.  Don’t be mad.  I hope you weren’t too set on marrying her.  Please don’t have been too set on marrying her._

“Lady Natasha.”  

She’d been so caught up in her own head that Nat hadn’t realized where her feet had taken her, stopping at the sound of her name to turn and see Fenrir leaning against one of the pillars in the welcoming hall, no longer dressed in the armor she’d fought him in before but instead a clean leather tunic, a wolf’s head carved into the leather, as though anyone could forget his sigil.  

She relaxed, forcing her body to soften, as she turned to smile at him, grateful for the training she’d received in keeping her face from showing just how she was feeling.  At least when she consciously made an effort.  The look Fenrir was giving her told her otherwise.  

“Fenrir, you have fought alongside me and against me now, you don’t have to call me a lady,” she admonished, eager to get his attention focused elsewhere.  

He offered a shrug as explanation.  “It’s your title, what you are.  But as a favor to you I can simply call you Natasha.”  

She smirked, holding his gaze until he broke it and laughed.  “Perhaps not my best ruse.  I’ll have to try harder to fool you.”  

“Much.”

“Come sit with me?  The library is the only place I’ve found that I can exist without being disturbed.  It’s as though these people are frightened of their books.”  He said, gesturing towards the library Natasha had seen only once when Dra’ace took them on a quick tour of his home.  “And you look like you could do with a few minutes of being undisturbed.”  

“Doubt it’s the books themselves that keep people away,” she mused.  She didn’t bring up the fact that him talking to her would technically be considered a disruption, too thankful for the excuse to delay talking to Thor, and followed him inside, breathing in the familiar musk of old books and paper, of treated leather and book bindings.  It might not have been as much her home as it was Loki’s, but it would do.  

It was a blessing, she found, to have someone to finally talk with who wouldn’t treat her like a delicate flower the way the other courtiers who she kept company with would.  Where they could compliment her humility and her prowess in beautifying the realm, Fenrir wasn’t ashamed to tell her the more bawdy tales of Loki as they grew up together.  It was a welcome distraction, his voice deep and suited for telling tales, breaking into small guffaws of laughter as he told her about Loki’s plan to dress Thor up as a woman in order to reclaim Mjolnir from a giant who had stolen it.  His gold eyes lit up as he recounted the story of Loki, intemperate and hot-headed as they all were in their young age, stealing a casket of elf wine from the kitchens, the pair of them sharing it before Loki stormed downstairs to where the others were having a feast to tell them off.  He’d gotten in trouble for that one, Fenrir recounted with a toothy grin.  

“I sat in the shadows trying not to laugh as he called them all out, his cheeks so red you’d have thought he’d rouged them up like a harlot from the lower city.  He could hardly keep his damn feet as he crowed on and on about how unfair they all were for ignoring him, and when they tried to invite him to sit down he about swallowed his tongue.”  He said with a bark of laughter.  

Natasha swapped stories of her own, small snippets of what she could remember of Earth growing up, while her feet propped up on the chair beside her, Fen taking noisy bites from a golden apple that resounded through the room as he listened to her talk about her mother, the young boys and girls she’d play with in the square when she could get out of doing her chores.  The memories were touchy, she had to admit, but they brought a smile to Fenrir’s face, and he’d take her silence as permission to launch into more stories of his own.  Nat didn’t mind it, gladdened by the camaraderie.  Besides, the more he distracted her the less strained she felt about talking to Thor.  

What she’d say to Aelyn when the woman found out Natasha had seen it all was a different matter entirely.  

As though feeding off of Nat’s thoughts, the pair she’d seen in the woods earlier that day walked in, Carissa’s hair a little less tidy than usual, and the color high in Aelyn’s cheeks.  Not that it would’ve caught Nat’s attention if she hadn’t seen what the pair had done.  She took a deep breath to slow the rapid beating of her heart, not wanting to give herself away, not until she had a plan, but already Fenrir was looking curiously over at her.  His hearing must’ve been better than Loki’s.  Good man that he was he kept his silence as Aelyn moved to stand near Natasha, tipping his head in recognition of the blonde.

“Princess,” he said, setting the apple core on the edge of the table and folding his hands in his lap.  “How can we help you?”  

“I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met.”  Aelyn said, offering him a smile and her hand.  “You seem to have me at a disadvantage, sir.”  

“Not a sir, princess.  Fenrir.”  He replied.  Nat couldn’t miss the way Aelyn’s hand trembled after that, how Carissa stiffened and her eyes went half an inch wider.  

“Pleasure to meet you,” Aelyn said without missing a beat, her smile strengthening as Fen pressed his lips to the back of her hand.  So it wasn’t just the warriors who knew about him.  She wondered if the pair knew of his involvement with Odin’s death, or if there was more that she needed to be on guard about.  As it was Carissa was staring at her with a mix of surprise and shock, perhaps even a little respect.  She would have to keep a closer eye on Fenrir, it seemed.  A year of someone’s life, that was his demand of the loser in the training circles.  Curious.  

“Natasha.”  Aelyn’s voice broke her out of her thoughts.  “I was wondering if I might speak with you.  Alone.”  The princess turned her smile to the redhead, who watched from the corner of her eyes as Carissa’s head whipped to stare at her mistress.  The word meant so much more now, Nat thought as she nodded and patted Fenrir on the shoulder.  The other two women went stiff at the gesture, but what did Nat have to fear?  She doubted he’d be so keen to go back on his favor to her, and killing her would be far too easy.  If he’d wanted her dead he’d had plenty of time with the pair of them alone to have done it.  

With little else to say Aelyn tugged Nat away from Carissa and Fenrir, leaving her handmaiden looking less than thrilled at the prospect of sitting with the other man.  Aelyn’s hand wrapped around Natasha’s wrist, and Nat couldn’t help but wonder if she was taking her pulse, though the idea was ludicrous.  She wasn’t sure if they even knew about lie detection and discovering fraud in the body’s reaction in Alfheim.  

“How did you meet Fenrir?”  Aelyn asked when they’d left the library, stepping down the halls.  “He’s certainly an interesting man.”  Their pace slowed considerably, as though Aelyn didn’t want to be too conspicuous by walking any faster than they absolutely had to, and Nat was grateful for it she supposed, pulling her hand back and away from Aelyn’s.  She didn’t stop her.  

“Is he?”  Natasha asked, feigning ignorance.  It was almost too easy to get away with.  “He and my husband know one another well.”  

“Yes, well they would.”  Aelyn said, Nat detecting a bitter, near sarcastic undertone that made her skin crawl.  What the hell was that supposed to mean?  “You know he had to do with the death of the Allfather, don’t you?”  

Natasha stiffened at that.  “Yes, I’m aware.”  

“And the death of Odin triggered the end of days.  What we are dealing with now?  The very reason that Thor had to be forced to take the throne?”  

“Are you looking to place blame for the situation that you’re in, Aelyn?”  Natasha asked, unable to help herself from firing back.  It was her turn to grip the princess hard around the wrist, stopping her in her tracks just after Aelyn had led her into one of the side rooms.  She was, admittedly, grateful for the privacy.  No one else needed to witness this telling off.  Her eyes bored into the shocked blue ones of the woman in front of her.  She tightened her fingers slightly, reigning herself in to keep from bruising the girl.  

“You don’t know what the hell happened with the Allfather.  Odin was nothing more than a coward who refused that his son get involved with the end of the world.  You want to point a finger at someone deserving it, the real person who’s behind you having to marry Thor?  Thanos.”  She released her arm.  “If it wasn’t for him then you wouldn’t be here.  You and Carissa would be back on Alfheim and everything would be back to normal, but it’s not.  It’s not Fenrir’s fault, or Loki’s, or Thor’s.  It’s Thanos’ for unleashing the Skrull on Midgard, and Odin’s for not seeing reason and aiding the planet he swore to protect.”  Her voice had lowered to a hiss, her eyes narrowing in anger.  “Now, would you care to run it by me again how any of this is Loki’s fault?”  

She didn’t answer, and Nat deflated with the woman’s silence, shaking her head.  She hadn’t meant to go off like that.  “I’m sorry.  It’s not my place to yell at you.”  There was too much struggle and fighting between people as it was and she didn’t need to be contributing to it.  

“I don’t want to marry Thor,” Aelyn said in a forced hiss of her own, her head drooping as she pulled her arm away from Natasha.  “I don’t . . . I don’t think I can love him, and I can’t explain it but--.”  

Nat put a hand on her shoulder, squeezed it.  Aelyn had tears in the corners of her eyes when she looked up.  “I didn’t mean what I said, I’m just so frustrated and--.”

“I know,” Natasha assured her, everything else in her mind clicking into place.  “And what I told Carissa before it’s . . . it’s not true. I was dreading you coming here because I still love Thor.  I love both of them, and we don’t always get what we want.  But if I can help you by keeping Thor,” she said, lowering her voice so only Aelyn would be able to hear her, watching as the woman’s eyes went wide and her lips parted in a small ‘o’ of surprise.  “Then I will.”  

“You mean it?”  

“I do.”  

Nat hadn’t been expecting the woman to throw her arms around her, hugging her tight and muttering “thank you” over and over again until Nat wasn’t even sure she was speaking the All Speak any longer.  It brought a smile to her face either way, and she patted Aelyn’s back before pulling away.  She opened her mouth to say something but was cut off by the sound of voices coming towards the room that Aelyn had dragged them into.  It was only then that Nat took a quick look around, noting the decanted amber liquor on the center of the table, two glasses already set up beside it, to the closet embedded on the right side of the room.  She grabbed Aelyn by the wrist and tugged her into it, shutting the door.  She wasn’t sure what the room was set up for, but whatever it was she didn’t want her presence to be known.  Not just then.  Her free hand went to Aelyn’s mouth, covering it tight to keep her from doing anything but breathe through her nose as the door to the room opened, Dra’ace and Jerome stepping inside, their voices hushed until the door closed behind them.  

“You’re certain of these numbers?”  Dra’ace asked, sounding livid and disgusted.  “Bloody son of a bitch had his brother lie to me--.”

“Yes, well you're not the only one angry,” Jerome promised, and Nat watched through the crack of the closet door as he poured two glasses of the liquor, offering the first to Dra’ace.  “And now Loki reportedly isn’t doing well with the Disir, so where does that leave us?  We’re the only ones to bring a decent number of soldiers while he provides us with promises and more mouths to feed.  Thor thinks he can simply act like Odin and demand the help of the nine realms?  He’s an imbecile.”  

“He certainly doesn’t have his father’s mind,” Dra’ace admitted, a scowl etched on his face.  “And we’re to follow this runt into battle along with his monster of a brother.  Norns, I’m grateful not to deal with him.”  

Natasha stiffened, feeling her heart ache, the pounding growing louder in her ears.  Aelyn’s eyes were wide and focused on her, her breathing having slowed and one of her hands tapping Nat’s wrist.  She still had her hand on the blonde’s mouth, and with a nod of understanding she lowered her hand.  Nat was still furious with these bastards, livid at their analysis of Thor’s rule and what he was doing.  Was she not more determined to finish hearing what it was they were saying she’d have jumped out of the closet to throttle the pair of them.  

The way that Dra’ace was coughing, however, made her stay stock still where she stood.  Dra’ace’s face began to redden as he coughed harder, and the now empty glass dropped from his hands to the ground, shattering against the hard flooring.  His hands clutched at his throat, clawing the skin while Jerome watched, unmoving.  Aelyn’s gasp was covered up by the sound of Vanaheim’s king struggling to suck in breaths of fresh air, failing miserably in the process. It hardly took two minutes before his bloodshot eyes began to droop and his knees buckled.  The thud resounded through the room, and Jerome’s chuckle was light as he poured the amber liquid of his own glass back into the decanter, wiping the glass surface free from where he’d gripped it, setting it back in place on the table.  Nat had to hold onto Aelyn as the woman shook, her eyes out of focus as she watched Jerome leave, the click of the door sending shivers across her body.  Silence.  No guards were called, Jerome hadn’t even taken a second look at the body as he’d left.  Not that he really had to, not when Dra’ace was about as dead as could be.  

“Oh.  Oh,” Aelyn whispered, covering her mouth with her own palms, words muffled until they were too foreign to be understood.  Nat’s lips remained pursed, sure that her blood had thickened and stopped moving altogether.  Dra’ace may not have been friend to her, but he had a family.  Hell, he had armies and men who were sworn to fight.  What would happen now?  

“I don’t--I don’t understand,” Aelyn had started to whisper as Nat brought them out of their hiding spot, stepping closer to examine the body as the princess turned away.  “I don’t understand, I don’t understand.”  

“Your brother’s an asshole,” Natasha muttered.  It wasn’t hard to see, was it?  What other sort of person would’ve poisoned an ally?  A friend, even.  

“No--a death of a royal--.”  Aelyn.  took a shuddering, gaping breath that sucked the remnants of Nat’s hope out of her.  “The army won’t march while his funeral rites are going on, and without a king to succeed him it’s unlikely they’ll march.  At all.”  

 

She had to leave Aelyn in the room with the dead diplomat, not trusting the body to be alone for too long.  Aelyn had begged her not to, tears spilling past her eyes as she grabbed at Nat’s hands and tried to tug her closer, but they couldn’t just do nothing, and Nat had the beginnings of a plan.  She hoped.  She walked, rather than ran as she wanted to, to the library, her heart lightening ever-so slightly to see Fenrir and Carissa both there.  The handmaiden stood when she noticed that Aelyn wasn’t with Nat, but when Nat shook her head and held up a hand to stop the woman’s questions, her expression turned solemn.  Fenrir, too, seemed to scent out the shift in the air.  

“Everything alright Natasha?”  

“Yes, of course.  Can you both come with me?  Aelyn and I have something we need to show you.”  She said, forcing herself to smile as though nothing was wrong.  She didn’t know what she could trust after what she’d seen, only trusting that at the very least Carissa wouldn’t betray Aelyn, and Fenrir?  Well, she’d taken him out once before, she’d do it again if she had to.  Besides it was time for her to cash in on her favor.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright--hope the update was worth the wait, and I'm not 100% sure when I'll get to update again what with a crap ton of projects and presentations and papers all coming up due near the very end of October, but once November gets here and NaNo starts it's all going to blessedly slow down once more. Fingers crossed, at least.  
> Thanks so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed the chapter! I've got the next little segment all figured out so at least I know where I'm going, roughly, with this! Thanks again!


	11. Earth Shaker Drums

Once more they walked, rather than hurried as Natasha would’ve preferred, to the room where she’d left Aelyn, the pair following her keeping their questions to themselves as she’d hoped they would, even as Nat herself wanted to scream and cry out and demand to know just what the hell had made Jerome do this.  She rapped on the door what felt like an eternity later, feet leadened by what she thought she was going to see.  She’d told Aelyn not to mess with the body, not just then at least, and when no response came her heart jolted.  Something hadn’t happened to the princess too, had it?  She hadn’t been gone that long!

“Aelyn, it’s me,” Nat hissed, hands balling at her sides as Fenrir shifted uncertainly behind her.  There was another pause, then the sound of feet on the other side of the door and Aelyn had unlocked the door.  Her eyes were red from crying, and Carissa shoved past Natasha to rush to her lady’s side, clasping Aelyn’s still trembling hands in her own and demanding to know what happened.  Natasha shook her head, motioning for them to stay silent as she shoved Fenrir and herself inside and closed the door.  Dra’ace’s body hadn’t moved an inch, and Fenrir’s eyes narrowed as he caught sight of the dead king in his spot.  

“You mean to say that you killed him?”  He asked, looking to Natasha, the beginnings of disbelief starting to form on his face.  

“No.  Jerome did,” Natasha said, looking to Aelyn for confirmation.  Before the princess could say anything Carissa snarled and placed herself in front of her lady, one of her hands flying to a knife at her side.  

“Why would the prince do something like that?” She demanded, pulling the knife from its case and pointing its tip at Natasha, who stiffened at the threat.  “You killed him and you forced his sister to help--you are blackmailing her, aren’t you?”  

“No,” Aelyn said as Natasha’s head whirled with the accusations.  Was Carissa stupid?  Why on earth would she do something like that?  “We watched him poison the king.  Now the Vanir armies will not go to war, not until their funeral rites have passed.  That could be months.”  She said, and though her voice shook she managed to keep the volume sufficient enough they could make out her words.  Barely.  Nat wondered just how long she had until the woman unraveled completely.  Carissa’s face turned incredulous at the news, but Fenrir growled low in his throat.  He looked more like the wolf he wore on his breastplate than he ever had before, gold eyes bright and narrowed as he stared at the body on the ground, then the decanted liquid on the table.  “In the drink?”

“Yes,” Natasha nodded.  Good, at least he was getting it.  She needed him more than she needed Carissa, anyway, still unable to believe that she’d thought Natasha behind it all.  How did this benefit her in any way?

“I can smell it on him.  Fucking coward,” he spat.  “We need to tell Loki and Thor.  They need to know that Vanaheim cannot be counted on for aid.”  

“We need to discount Jerome.”  Natasha insisted.  “We cannot make it look as though this is just a death, or a mishap.  Either we find a way to pin it on Jerome, or we say that Thanos is behind it.  If his people have something to fight for, someone to seek revenge from, then maybe we can count on that and use this mess we’re in.  Right?”

“It won’t be that easy,” Aelyn said, stepping closer to Natasha.  Carissa moved with her, the shadow attached to the bottom of Aelyn’s feet.  “To convince the queen and the army to abandon the rites we would have to have a calamity that they could not ignore.”  

Natasha tried not to scream.  Hadn’t there been enough?  This whole situation, every damn realm was in such a state of panic that it was impossible to ignore, and yet they were going to pretend that they, alone, had been the unfortunate ones?  What about her home?  Her realm?  She bit down on her tongue so hard it near bled, and her lips twisted downwards in a scowl of anger.  “Okay.  Like what?  If we let Thanos attack here again when we know the armies will do nothing, when they aren’t ready for the fight, then what?  Vanaheim dies along with its king.  No, if we can give them a common enemy, someone to whom they can point the blame, they will make an exception.  Fenrir.”  She looked to the man, whose head snapped up and to attention, his focus having been solely on the ground beneath him, gaze a million miles away as he thought it all over.  

“What do you need me to do?”

“Either find something that can connect Jerome to the death, or better yet Thanos, or manufacture something.  I don’t care what you have to do, or who you have to do it to.  We need their armies.”  She said seriously.  

Aelyn stepped closer, and for the first time since they’d been in the damn room Nat saw that she had stopped shaking.  “Don’t you dare hurt my brother.”  

“He should’ve thought of that before he sentenced us all to death,” Natasha said, her voice coming out more harshly than she’d intended it to, though she meant everything she said.  “He condemned us all to death courtesy of this little stunt.  I’m not going to lose what little I have left because your brother decided he wanted to play assassin, and piss poorly at that.”  

Aelyn didn’t say anything in return, her eyes wide and her jaw locking to keep her bottom lip from trembling. Natasha could see her beginning to come apart at the seams, and though Carissa took the princess’ hand in her own she ripped it right back.  “Do not harm him,” she said once more, her voice soft but strong all the same.

“I can’t make any promises.”  Fenrir muttered.  

Nor could, or would, Natasha.  She would protect her own with whatever it was she had, however she had to do it, dammit all.  Obviously Jerome wasn’t thinking the same, so Natasha couldn’t understand why Aelyn was so protective over the son of a bitch.  

 

In the end they left Dra’ace’s body where it was.  To move it would cause Jerome to become suspicious that he’d been found out, and with Fenrir looking for anything and everything he could they needed him as unawares as they could get.  Natasha thanked whatever Norn it was that had devised that she defeated him in combat earlier that day, even if it felt half a lifetime ago.  As it was he’d taken off as soon as they’d reached a decision about the body and Natasha was grateful that he was taking this so seriously.  As a mercenary he could just as easily have changed sides if this one didn’t suit him, loyalties to Loki be damned.  She was so thankful he hadn’t.  

She, meanwhile, sought out Thor.  Carissa and Aelyn had disappeared back into the princess’ room after Natasha’s warning about not even hinting to Jerome what they’d seen.  She hadn’t thought she’d need to say anything, but there was no being too careful, not with this.  The last thing she needed was him to get defensive and to leave before she could prove what she needed to, before she could convince the Vanir to march alongside the rest of them.  

They couldn’t afford any more setbacks.  

She found Thor in his own room, studying maps of a place she’d never visited before, nor did she want to if it had places named “Death’s Peak” or “Despair’s Throne.”  Honestly, what sort of melodramatic imbecile was the map maker?  

Thor smiled to see her, taking care that no one was around before he pressed his lips to her cheek.  She caught his face in her hands and kissed him on the mouth, turning her head just in time and holding him there until they were panting.  Her cheeks were heated, and his gaze was lidded when they pulled away, lips parting as they panted for breath.  He tasted of mead and whatever he’d had for lunch and so familiar it near hurt her bones to have him so close to her once more.  She straddled his lap, glad for the freedom that the trousers she’d taken up wearing once more allowed her, and pressed her lips to his again and again, not caring that they were gasping for breath and she could feel him all but cutting into the flesh of her thighs when she rubbed against him.  

“Natasha, what has gotten into you?”  He asked, voice hoarse when she finally pulled away, her fingers hastening to work on the buttons of his shirt.  

“I need you--I need both of you,” she gasped, hardly able to find the words, choking on them and spitting them out before the tears could run down her face, hot and embarrassing.  The more she kissed him the further away the tears got, and so she brought their lips together again and again.  “I just need you--I need you both--I need to feel alive.”  She begged.  

“Then it’s a good thing I came back when I did.”  Loki’s voice came from behind, and she started, turning around on Thor’s lap so quickly her neck ached.  Thor’s body rippled with a laugh as Loki stepped from the shadows, his red eyes dissolving into the green she was so familiar with, the blue of his skin ebbing like the tide, making way for the flush of pink, pale flesh to cover his frame.  

“Always the dramatic one,” Thor murmured.  “Are you going to stand there, or are you going to help me give the lady what she wants?”  

They hardly made it into Loki and Natasha’s bedroom, deciding of the ones available it was the least likely to be disturbed.  Between Loki’s teeth on her throat and Thor’s lips on her collar, their hands shifting and sliding, easing their way over her flesh, she found her worries and her apprehensions about Dra’ace and Fenrir, about Jerome’s betrayal and Aeyln and Carissa’s relationship, disappearing from her mind.  This was exactly what she needed, exactly what it was she’d wanted for so long.  Loki entered her first, removing his lips from where he’d been devouring her whole and replacing his tongue for his cock, filling her with one fluid snap of his hips.  She gasped, stripped bare between the two of them, balanced precariously in limbo, as his hands held her hips steady for Thor to align himself as well.  They’d sat on Loki and Natasha’s enormous bed, the two brothers sitting on opposite sides of her, Natasha leaning forward to allow Thor better access as he eased his way into her.  Loki’s thumb on her clit helped to ease the discomfort caused by the way Thor stretched her body, and the man’s soft whispers of admiration and adoration in her ear did the rest until the tension released from between her shoulder blades and he seated himself wholly within her.  

They took turns thrusting in and out, their bodies flush against hers as Loki kissed her so hard she feared he might suck her soul from her body, while Thor left marks wherever his mouth and teeth went.  She gasped and groaned, whimpering their names until it was all she could think of.  Once, twice, three times her vision whited out and her body went stiff with pleasure from the climaxes they forced her body through, and only when she was too sensitive and cried out for them did they finish within her, Thor resting his forehead against the base of her spine while Loki leaned backwards to bring the pair of them with him.  They fit that way, Natasha safely between them, where she belonged, Thor’s arm wrapped around her waist as they laid on their sides, her fingers intertwined with Loki’s.  

 

By the end of the night the word had spread that Dra’ace had been killed, assassinated, the bloodshot eyes and the distortion of his face pointing towards poison.  Natasha, Thor, and Loki all showed their respects to the wife he left behind, who hardly kept her face stoic throughout the announcement and the proceedings that followed.  The army, as it was, was ordered to retreat from their outposts, to rejoin their families, and to stay there until the funeral rites had completed.  Natasha’s heart dropped when Thor announced that they were to return to Asgard to allow the realm space to breathe and to mourn in peace.

“Thor we need them on our side-- we can’t just let them sit there and do nothing!”  She hissed as he worked to finish packing his belongings.  Fenrir hadn’t had enough time!  There was still so much to be done!

“There’s nothing I can do,” he murmured, and he turned away from her, not before she could see the way his brow creased further.  What more wasn’t he telling her?

“What else?”  She demanded.  “What else could possibly be happening?”

“The treaty with Alfheim is off.  Jerome cited the death of Dra’ace as the final straw.  He and Aelyn and their assistance left for their realm not an hour after the announcement, and we ought to do the same.”  

That son of a bitch.  She saw red, and bit down on her tongue to keep from screaming.  That stupid, gutless, son of a bitch.  She’d rip his head from his shoulders as soon as she got the chance to.  “Isn’t that a little too coincidental?” She demanded, trying not to sound as though she was accusing the prince of anything but . . . well, it was too obvious.  Even Thor seemed to agree, though he masked it with a heavy sigh.  

“There’s nothing more we can do.  Come now, Loki is waiting for us.”


	12. Voices Just Burn Holes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! So, long-ish chapter [finally] and we're beginning to get to the second half of this, which is to say the fun part. Yay! I just sat down and did some actual story boarding, so now this'll hopefully be far more coherent than originally planned. And fun! Thanks so much for reading!

“Thor I have something to tell you--.”

“Not right now Natasha, we’re late.  We need to go,” Thor murmured, tugging her hand in his own.  There was no point in keeping the pretenses up, she supposed.  Not now that Jerome had broken the agreement between Thor and Aelyn.  Her heart ached.  Aelyn would be thrilled, kept from being forced to marry against her will--and not that Natasha could blame her.  But at what cost?  They needed the armies from Alfheim more than ever.  

“But you don’t understand we can’t leave yet--it’s important--.”

“Natasha they will not let us stay here unless we are to stay for the whole ceremony, and we do not wish to be trapped here for months.  We need to go.”  He told her, blue eyes bright with warning.  There wasn’t any time for them to talk about it, and Natasha’s stomach erupted with her nerves.  

“Where’s Fenrir, then?” She demanded, pulling her hand free from Thor’s.  She needed to speak with him once more. He, she was sure, would manage to weasel his way out of Vanaheim, but she needed him to keep going, to keep looking and try and pin this on Thanos, at the very least.  If Jerome was leaving so quickly then there would be no chance that they could prove what he’d done.  There was no choice but to prove it was at least Thanos’ doing that had brought on Dra’ace’s death.  For all she knew it might’ve been.  Alfheim was getting too much out of this tragedy, and she was willing to bet that Jerome had struck a deal with the mad Titan to keep them safe so long as Alfheim stayed out of the battle.  He was a fool if he thought that a bargain would be enough.  

“I don’t know, with Loki I presume.  Natasha, there isn’t time.  I’m sorry,” he said, and he sounded it as he all but dragged her out of the palace.  True enough, Fenrir stood with Loki and the pair were talking in hushed voices.  Loki’s eyes sought Natasha’s, and without words she sensed that Fenrir had already filled him in on what had happened, what she and Aelyn had seen.  Her heart ached with gratitude to the man, and when they got close enough she pulled him into a tight hug, pulling away from Thor to do so.  

“Don’t forget my favor,” she murmured in his ear, and the man gave a quick nod of his head before pulling away and staring at her.  

“You be safe.  I’ll see you as soon as I can.”  

“Thank you.”  She said, unable to find the strength to even smile, before she was pulled away by the other two and Fenrir was left standing in the courtyard of Vanaheim’s castle.  The shutters were already closing one by one, despite the heat of the day, and had they not been royalty from another realm they might not have gotten out past the gate before it shut.  They weren’t the only ones leaving, too.  She swore she caught sight of Aelyn being tugged away by Jerome, Carissa with them, before they were swallowed up by the teams of knights and warriors leaving the capitol of the realm to return back home.  They would have work enough to do there, she supposed, but she wanted to scream at them that they were all still in danger, that it hadn’t gone away.  Their king might’ve been dead but there was his culprit and if they’d just listen to her--.  

But it would be her word against his, and the circumstances wouldn’t make it any easier for her to prove.  She wasn't certain she could count on Aeyln’s testimony, besides.  Why would she go against her brother?  She hadn’t seemed very gung-ho when Natasha had first proposed it, so she couldn’t be relied on for something so serious.  And an accusation like that was as serious as it got.  Heimdall pulled them back finally, the others having already returned before them, and once they landed on the bifrost Natasha turned her attention immediately to the gatekeeper.  

“Who’s Jerome working for?”  She asked.  She didn’t know why she hadn’t thought about Heimdall’s all-seeing gaze before, but now that she had someone who should’ve known--.

But he was shaking his head.  “I cannot see.  Whomever it is is shielding themselves from being seen, even by me.  I am sorry my lady,” he said, golden eyes deep with his apologies.  Natasha felt her victory wane and dissolve.  Damn.  That’d been her last hope, unless she could somehow get into touch with Aelyn and have her keep an eye on her brother.  That was doubtful.  She barely managed to keep from shouting with her frustration as she nodded her head and looked to Thor.  His expression was one of confusion, and as his mouth opened Loki shook his head and tugged them both away.  

“Not here.”  He murmured.  “This is a conversation best left for the privacy of the royal quarters,” he murmured, looking up to Heimdall.  “Would you meet us there this evening?  I would hear your report of the event as well as Natasha’s.”

Nat nodded, and Heimdall dipped his head to agree, assuring them that he would answer the summons whenever it was that they were ready for him.  Thor’s brow was still creased with confusion, but as Natasha threaded her fingers with his to tug him out he went without issue.  Loki stepped just beside her, and as Natasha released Thor’s hand Loki wrapped his arm around her midsection, leaning over to kiss her temple.  

“I missed you,” he murmured in her ear.  Her skin flushed at the contact, and she shot him the smallest of smiles, promising that she felt the same way.  

“What news from Hela?”  Thor asked Loki, who shook his head again.  

“Not here, Thor.  We’ll meet with mother, check on those who made it back, and then go to discuss it.  I’ll not compromise anything by speaking in the open like this.”  Loki hissed, his eyes meeting his brother’s.  Though Thor clenched his jaw he nodded once more, fingers twitching in anticipation.  Natasha could empathize.  It wasn’t easy, being out of the loop and thirsty for knowledge, even less so when there were two people who knew something that you didn’t, but Loki had a point.  The last thing they needed was Thanos to have a spy within earshot to hear just how things were going.  When he already had so many advantages the last thing they needed to do was give him yet another.  

Frigga waited for them in the hall, her face drawn as she came walking quickly towards them.  Her arms enveloped Thor first, then Natasha, and finally Loki, and she pressed her lips to each of their cheeks in turn.  “Thank the Norns you’re all doing well,” she whispered, taking Loki’s hands in her own.  “You’re absolutely freezing my dear.  And you must be hungry.  Come, I’ll call for food to be brought to the main hall.”

“Thank you, mother,” Thor said quickly but shook his head.  “We have some matters to attend to and then meetings to set up.  We’ll eat with you this evening.  Call everyone in to eat, have the kitchens prepare enough food for all of Asgard.  We have much to be thankful for and I would have my people near this evening.”  

Frigga’s eyes widened, but she nodded in understanding.  “Yes, of course my dear.  I will make sure that it is done.  Good to have you all back.”

“Is there news from Jotunheim at all?”  Loki asked her before she could go.  He hadn’t had the time to double check, and Natasha watched as his shoulders squared with preparation.  Frigga’s smile softened slightly.  

“Your brother confirmed with me not a day ago that things are still going well.  They are training and making preparations for war.  He hopes you are well and are pleased with his progress when you return.”  

Loki’s lips split into a small smile and he nodded at that.  Natasha brought her hand to his shoulder and squeezed, feeling a modicum of tension release from the knot he had at the top of his spine.  Good.  At least there was a small bit of good news, and hopefully more would follow soon.  

They split to each check on their individual chargins, Thor disappearing to speak with Sif and the other Warriors Three and Steve, wishing to check on the progress of the armies in his absence, Natasha to visit with Tony and the others from SHIELD, and Loki to speak with the treasury of what they had left to barter with since Vanaheim had bled them of much of their resources and money.  She found Tony in the armory, and glad to see him there, harassing the other smiths and humming to himself as he tinkered away with a glowing hunk of metal, hammering it until it thinned out considerably, then smiling as it hissed when it came in contact with the cool water of the pool beside him.  

“Tony,” Natasha called out, earning the others eyes on her.  There was a reverent bow of their heads as she walked through, and she tried her best not to flush at the attention.  Seemed her and Thor’s secret really wasn’t that much of a secret after all.  Whoops.  

“Hey, Nat.  Long time no see--everything ok on Vanaheim?”  Tony asked, looking up with a tight smile.  

“Yes, everything’s fine,” she lied simply, watching all the others who kept their ears in Tony and her direction even as they focused back on their work.  Right.  She’d have to be very careful.  “What are you working on?”  

That made him grin, and he beckoned her closer.  “You know, it’s a real shame that I left all my damn CDs and shit back on--well, I miss my music.  Jarvis salvaged some of it thank God, but yeah.  It just made working that much easier.”  

“Sorry to hear about that,” Nat said, resting her hand on his shoulder and squeezing.  

He shrugged, shooting her an appreciative, albeit weak, smile.  “Hey, I’m lucky to even be here. But hey!  Not here to bring you down.  C’mere, I wanna show you something I’ve been making.”  He said, grinning all the more broadly as he motioned for her to follow him once again.  “Been meaning to show you this but you’ve been gone forever.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” she murmured.  

He waved it off.  “Don’t worry about it.  You’ve got important big girl stuff to do.”  

Yes, yes she did.  He brought her into a secondary room, one that housed a couple of enormous weapons hanging from pegs, a couple of new bows, and some arrows in lines.  Clint would be happy to see those, she was certain.  He led her over to a pair of gauntlets that glowed bright blue when he pressed a button to them.  “These I made for you.”  He grinned.  “Try ‘em on and I’ll show you what they do.”  

Unable to keep herself from smiling at his enthusiasm Natasha nodded and slid her hands inside the new weapons.  They fit snuggly on the palms of her hands, lighter than she would’ve expected, but as she clenched her fists she felt something surge through her.  

“You’re used to wearing leather, right?”  He asked.  “Like a full leather cat suit?”  

“Yeah,” she said.  He’d seen her in action, she forgot, and was grateful for it.  

“These’ll blend in with those, and if you can get me your suit I can even add additional energy sources so that these,” he tapped the blue lines that arced over her knuckles and over her arms.  “Don’t run out.  Now, point them this way, and there’s a button right on the palm--yeah, like that,” he grinned as a bolt of what looked like electricity shot out from the gauntlets and hit the nearest pillar of stone, taking a chunk out of it.  She looked on in surprise.  Woah.  

“That’s amazing,” she said, feeling her wrists burn at the electricity and the sizzle it left on her skin.  She shifted, her skin feeling far more itchy than before, and as she twisted her wrists to try and make it go away the color shifted from blue to red.  Stark gave a low whistle.  

“The hell did you just do?”  He asked, taken aback.  “I didn’t do that.  Try that again--the repulsor.”

She pressed the button once more, and watched with shock as the bolt of energy set the damn pillar on fire.  It burned bright with a huge burst of light before Tony swore and ran to fetch a bucket of water to put it out.  Natasha scrambled to rip the gauntlets off, keeping from pressing the button, and as soon as she took them off they returned to blue again.  The runes on her wrist burned, and she pulled down the sleeve of her shirt to stare at them.  They were illuminated against the skin, and she pressed one just enough to make it burn, wondering why in the hell it’d reacted in that way.  She summoned water before Tony could get back with it, just displacing it from somewhere in the palace so that it covered the fire, smothering it and steam erupted where it’d gone out.  

Tony halted soon as he ran in with a bucket, staring at Nat.  “Right.  So, you’ve got that under control.”  He shifted.  “Magic?”

“Yeah.  I guess it reacted with the energy or whatever of the gauntlets.  That’s really awesome, though, Tony.  Thank you.”  She smiled, trying to wipe the shaky smile from her lips.  But the truth of it?  That fucking terrified her.  She had so little control over it it felt some days.  Sure, she could get it to work for her in a pinch, or when she really thought about it, but if it was so unpredictable then how the hell could she even think about it being a bonus?  

“Right, not a problem.  I’ll see if I can’t keep working on them so that it reacts with your magic rather than changing on its own.  Just in case you want to use electricity instead of fire . Or visa versa I guess.  Anyway, I’ve got more.”  He said, his assured grin back in place as he led Natasha towards the wall of weapons she’d been eyeing before.  He pulled two mirror, curved blades off the wall, both of them with blank lines running through the blades that looked as though they’d light up once she held them in the gauntlets.  He explained as much, that they were calibrated to her body height and the length of her arm (he’d gotten the measurements from Frigga when the others had been away) and once she held them with her gauntlets on they’d channel the electricity that ran through the gauntlets, cauterizing wounds and keeping the blades extra sharp.  She grinned at that, picking one of them up and feeling the weight, the balance of it in her palm.  He’d done a damn fine job calibrating it, and she turned to weave it through the air a couple times, feeling the movement of it through the air and guessing how easy it would be to cleave open the head of her foes  with it.  She loved it.  

“They’re gorgeous, Tony,” she said with a wide grin.  “Really, I love them.  I’ll get someone to make me a couple of sheaths for them.”  

“I’ll do it,” he grinned.  “I’m still tinkering with them, but they’ll be done soon enough.  Wanted to get you in here to try them out but, well, y’know how it is.  It’s been busy.”  He took a good look at her face and frowned.  “You okay? Need to talk about it?”  

She shook her head, and smiled in spite of herself.  “You’re sweet, Tony, but I’ll be alright.  It’s just a stressful time, you know?”

“Yeah, I do.”  He said with a dip of his head.  “And I’m not all that good to talk to, to be honest.  I was going to suggest Bruce.  He’s a great listening ear,” he admitted with a sheepish smile.  That made her laugh, and she leaned in to kiss his cheek.  

“Thanks, Stark.”  

“Any time.  You tell Loki and Thor that I’ve got stuff for them, too.  I’ve been trying to make new tech for everyone while I can--you should see the materials that they’ve got for me to play with, it’s fucking candy land.  I love it.”

She tried not to look too confused at what he called it, just nodding helpfully, and before too long she said her goodbyes and headed back up to Thor’s bedroom where they’d agreed to reconvene.  Her hands ached for the feel of her new weapons, wishing she kept them at her sides, but if he was going to keep tinkering with them and make them better than she supposed it was better that way.  Thor was already there, and the lines on his face were all the more pronounced as she knocked softly and entered once he gave her the go-ahead.  

“How fares Tony?”  He asked, moving to sit on the bed and patting the space beside him.  She sat down without question, resting her head on his shoulder.  His arm wrapped around her waist and he pressed his lips to the top of her head, closing his eyes as he forced himself to relax against her.  She appreciated it, breathing in the heavy musk of ozone that was her lover.  

“He’s fine.  Why don’t you ask the question you’re dying to, Thor?”  She murmured.  

“If you already know it then you ought to just answer it without me having to prompt you to do so, shouldn’t you?”  Thor asked, his body stiffening at her side with her accusation.  She looked at him, one eyebrow rising, and felt him grow warm under her gaze.  

“Apologies.”  He muttered.  Yeah, that was what she thought.  “What happened to Dra’ace?  How is Jerome involved?”  

“He poisoned the king.  Aelyn and I watched him pour some of the drink for Dra’ace and watched as it killed him.  Jerome didn’t do a bloody thing to react to it, and when it was done he hid what evidence he could.  He’s using Dra’ace’s death as an excuse to keep from getting involved in the war, and broke off the engagement between you and Aelyn in order to further justify his keeping the Alfheim army away.”  

Thor hardly breathed as she spoke, and she watched as his eyes went out of focus, his hands turning to fists on his knees.  Outside the skies rumbled and fell pitch black as his mood turned sour.  

“Thor, darling, stay with me.”  Natasha said, cupping his chin and turning his gaze onto her.  It took a moment but his eyes zeroed in on her, focusing on her own eyes, and even closed when she leaned in to kiss him.  “I know you’re mad but there’s nothing we can do about it from here, right now.  I’ve already got Fenrir trying to find out what he can--that’s why he stayed behind.”  She said.  “But I need you to not fly into a rage--.”

“I’m not about to rage,” he growled to the contrary.  

“Darling, look at me,” she murmured, using both of his hands to hold his head.  His eyes sparked, and she swore that she felt the air around them crackle with electricity.  “Please, please just stay with me.  We’re going to figure this out.”  She promised.  “But I was afraid to tell you because we don’t have proof to pin him.  Not beside what Aelyn and I saw, and I don’t know if we can trust her to say what she saw.  I don’t know how comfortable she would be with speaking out against her king, her brother.”  

“Even if it’s the truth?”  He growled.  

“Especially if it’s the truth.  It would destroy her family.”  

“So instead Thanos destroys the world.”  

“I know, it’s difficult to sit by and not react.  I know,” she promised him, and leaned in to kiss him.  He clutched her as tight as he could, so tight she near lost her breath.  “But we’ll figure it out.”  She had to believe they would.  Thor didn’t release her, just pulled her all the closer to him until she feared her ribs might be crushed from the embrace.

Loki appeared soon after, hardly having to take a whiff of the ozone that clogged the air before he realized what happened.  “You told him?”  He asked Nat, who nodded.  “Good.  Then I have news to share as well that ought to lighten the mood.”  He said, moving to stand opposite the pair of them.  Natasha was glad of it.  She’d had enough of bad news to last her five lifetimes.  

“The Disir have agreed to help us,” he said, lips splitting as he reached into his pocket to grab a stone much like the one that he’d once given to Natasha.  “I am to crush this on the day of battle and they are to come to our aid.  I promised them the souls of our enemies should they help, and they each agreed to it.  Twenty may not be the largest of numbers, but they cannot die so easily, so I have hope.  Even without Vanaheim or Alfheim, this is good news.”  

“It is,” Thor said with a nod, standing to clap his brother on the back.  “I have plans to leave this evening for Nidavellir, to speak with Hreidmar about bringing his troops in to help us.”  

Loki stiffened at the name, his face going so white so quickly that Natasha worried he’d been drained of blood by an invisible force.  

“What, what’s wrong?”  

“I don’t like dwarves,” he murmured.  

“They are our natural allies, Loki, so long as we do not double cross them.”  Thor said it so pointedly Natasha didn’t have to wonder what it was that Loki had did to dislike them.  Her silly husband.  

“Another tale from your youth?”  She asked, sounding exasperated.  

“Aye.  Not one I care to remember,” Loki said, voice dark and eyes downcast at the memory.  “Though I suppose that leaves Lord Katrik.”  

“I wish to go see him,” Natasha said.  “I think I can convince him to come to our side.”  

Neither of the men said a word against it, neither wanting to tell her no, even though they worried what it might cost her to spend time with the fire demons.  She might get away with it, hopefully would, but really?  Neither of them had high hopes for the success of convincing the demons to their side.  They were impartial at best, and downright evil at worst.  Loki didn’t even look as though he wanted their help, but Nat shot him a glare.  

“We need all the help we can get, and besides you need to go be with your brother and keep Jotunheim in check.  Just in case.  And figure out what we’re doing with Helbindi.”  She sighed.  Why was there so bloody much for them to keep doing?

She was about to open her mouth to say that it would be best of them to learn how to communicate when the door burst open, and a short, brunette woman stood in the doorway.  She pressed her glasses up her nose, and gaped at the three of them for a moment until Natasha stared pointedly at her.  

“Oh, uh.  You guys are the royals, right?  We’ve got a bit of a problem--well, my employer does.  Friend.  Jane’s my friend.  We’ve got a problem, and Bruce told me to come get you.  Please.”  


	13. A Thunder In Our Hearts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay another long update! Hope you're enjoying the story and the multiple updates--I'm trying to crank as much of it out as I can before school starts up once more. Thanks so much for reading!

Darcy, as the girl turned out to be named, led them all the way to the other end of the castle where Bruce and a few of his friends had set themselves up to do what they could with Asgard’s science and magic, to try and marry the two in order to better help their healers and their technological advances.  There they found a young woman, arms extended out in front of her, playing with the projections the soulforge displayed above her.  She was grinning and babbling, completely . . . well, fine looking, if Natasha was honest.  She couldn’t see what was wrong with her.  

“What happened, what is it?”  She asked one of the healers as Loki took a couple of tentative steps closer, his brow furrowing as he stared at the woman.  With a rush Natasha realized that they’d seen her before, working with Banner and Stark as they’d worked with the healers to take care of the wounded from Midgard.  

“We don’t quite know.  Not yet.  We’re trying to find the source of energy, but there’s something just below the skin,” Eir, the head healer, said, turning a few of the knobs of the machine to make it whir, the image spinning slightly so that she could get a better look at it.  

“So what happened?”  Thor asked, his blue eyes focusing in on Jane’s, which had gone wide at the realization of who she was speaking to.  

“You got _them_?!” She hissed to Darcy.  “Like, the king and his brother and his wife of the damn _realm_ we’re not even supposed to be on?”  She reached out, as though to throttle the dark haired girl, who leapt out of range.  

“What else was I supposed to do?  You went all cold and collapsed and I freaked out--I can’t be expected to make all the right decisions all the time!”  

“Darcy I just asked you to get help not to get the damn royal family!”

“Hush,” Loki bit out, moving to put a hand to her shoulder.  “Don’t get so worked up--.”  He’d hardly pressed finger to the wool of her coat before a red wave of pure energy shot out at all nearby.  Thor pulled Natasha behind him, shielding her with his body, and there was a soft moan of discomfort from the woman on the table as the others worked to pick themselves back up from where they’d been thrown either onto the floor or against the wall.  No one said a thing, the only sound being Jane’s labored breathing, until Loki had gotten back to his feet and took a wary step towards the relaxed woman.  She looked as though she could hardly keep her eyes open, though her head turned to face Loki as he advanced.  

“Don’t touch me--I don’t want to hurt you,” she croaked, blinking blearily.  “I don’t know what’s happening to me.”  

“You won’t hurt me,” he assured her, though Natasha’s heart leapt into her throat at the sight of him reaching out to try and touch her again.  He better be damn sure of it.  “Just keep calm, Jane.  Just keep breathing.”  

“M’kay,” she hummed, exaggerating her breaths as he pressed his palm to her shoulder.  Only then did Natasha breathe a sigh of relief, taking Thor’s hand in her own and squeezing it, before she headed towards the others.  Eir and Darcy were getting to their feet, Thor moving to make sure they were both alright, while Natasha stepped closer to press a tentative hand to Jane’s forehead, smoothing the hair that had plastered itself there.  The woman was drenched in sweat, as though she’d been exerting herself for hours, and as though Loki sensed that, his skin turned a light blue as he took her wrist in his and turned it over for his inspection.  She shivered at the change in temperature, and Natasha felt something roll through the woman’s body, a strange wave of the same energy.  Whatever magic was inside of her was protecting itself, not just her, and Loki’s brow furrowing told her that he was coming to the same conclusion.  Strange.  Natasha could all but _feel_ the tug at her own magic, as though whatever the red wave had been was trying to get her own magic to manifest itself, to feed off of her own energy.  That was ridiculous, though.  Loki’s never did that, nor had Frigga’s.  So what was it, then, that coursed through Jane’s body?  Natasha looked to Loki, hoping to find that he had the answers.  But no, it didn’t look like it.  If anything the crease in his brow and the pursing of his lips told her that even if there was an answer to be found it wouldn’t be to any of their liking.  

“The infection is protecting her, isn’t it?”  Eir asked, her voice soft and contemplative as she came to stand beside Loki, nudging at another of the dials of the forge.  The image of Jane’s wrist magnified, and just beneath what ought to have been the surface something red flowed, far more mercurial and not quite as solid as blood, as though it was magic made visual.  Natasha felt her mouth drop open as there came a hiss of recognition from behind her, Thor’s attention having zeroed in on it.  

“That cannot be--.”  He muttered.  

“It has to be,” Loki said, voice grave enough to make Jane begin to tremble beneath him.  Hardly conscious as it was, she barely managed to lift herself up onto one of her arms, staring from one to the other.  

“That doesn’t sound good,” she said, clearing her throat to raise the volume of her voice.  “What’s wrong with me?”  

“I think we need to have a talk in private with you, Jane,” Loki said, not answering her question.  Eir had the decency to keep from looking scandalized by the hint that she wasn’t privy to the conversation, but Darcy wasn’t nearly as tactful.  

“No way in hell are you leaving me out of this.”  She moved closer and took one of Jane’s hands in her own, squeezed it.  Nat paused to see the sheer amount of affection pass between the two in one glance, though Jane attempted to bat the woman playfully away with her other hand.  

“You’re too protective of me.”

“Bullshit I am.  If I had been you wouldn’t be in this mess right now,” Darcy grumbled, before her eyes raised to meet Natasha’s, Thor’s, and Loki’s in turn.  “Whatever you’ve got to say to her I want to hear it, too.”  She swallowed thickly.  “Uh, please.”  

Nat shared a quick smile with Loki, who gave a one-shouldered shrug.  “Very well.  Eir, healers, if we could.”

Eir gave a quick dip of her head before she and the other women scuttled out of the room, closing the heavy doors of the private chamber behind them.  It would have to be good enough.  Darcy shifted Jane over on her place on the forge and took a seat just behind her, Jane’s upper torso pressing up against her girlfriend’s as they watched Loki alter the projections from the forge to hover above them in six separate circles.  

“If you’ve been working with Stark and his lot then you know that we mean to go up against the mad titan, Thanos,” Loki started, each of the pockets of his hologram filling with new images: a bright, ice blue cube, a purple stone encased in a silver ball, a red, not quite liquid not quite solid form that flowed within its designated area, another, deeper blue stone that seemed to almost flash yellow every so often, an orange gem the size of Natasha’s fist, and one final, deep green one that formed a crescent shape.  They took her breath away, and she stared at them in disbelief and curiosity as Loki explained their origin and the creation of what he called Infinity Stones.  Not that all of them were strictly stone, it turned out.  

“It makes the most sense that Thanos would begin to collect these infinity stones in order to conquer the nine realms, and eventually the rest of the universe.  Heimdall reported that when he attended Natasha and my wedding he came under the guise of looking for the Space gem, which we have in our possession, but because he was unable to get it he will eventually launch an attack in order to get it.  Only the next time we anticipate he’ll have collected as many of the others as possible.”  Loki hardly took a breath as he explained it.  “And the more stones that one collects, the stronger their power grows.  I believe what you have inside you, Jane, is known as the Aether, but there’s another name that it goes by.”

“An infinity stone?  But it’s not--.”

“Strictly a stone, yes.  I believe it’s the reality stone.”  Loki murmured, offering to take her hand once more.  She placed it in his grasp, and Darcy gave a muffled curse as they watched Jane’s skin turn bright red just beneath the surface of her wrist, as though whatever was inside of her was pressed right up against her skin.  Jane let out a hiss of breath, screwing up her face and biting her bottom lip.  

“Can you get it out?”  She finally asked, looking from Loki, to Thor, and back.  

Loki sighed and shook his head.  “I cannot.  The knowledge of how to was lost with the Dark Elves, though if rumors are true then we may be able to anticipate them coming back for the Aether.  If they have sided with Thanos he would have promised them the Aether, which they believe to be their birthright.  I’m not even going to ask how it is you got it,” he murmured.  “Only stress the importance of you _keeping_ it as long as you are able.”  

“You’re shitting me, right?”  Darcy exclaimed form just behind Jane.  Jane turned around, shaking her head, as though to tell her to stop talking, but Darcy pushed on either way.  “You just told us that there’s this psychotic titan coming for this Aether thing and you want Jane to just _hold onto it for you_?  Are you insane?  Do you want her to die for you because you might as well just come out and say it, that’s what you’re asking for.  God, you don’t even realize it, do you?”  She seethed, her eyes narrowed behind her glasses.  Natasha stepped closer and shut Loki up with a look before he could say anything.  For being a brilliant tactician and a wordsmith, he sure fell short when it came to tact.  

“The alternative is we let Thanos get it.  Immediately,” Natasha said, her voice quiet but demanding Darcy and Jane’s full attention.  Both pairs of eyes zeroed in on her.  “Look, I know this is hard to grasp, but this is a difficult time for all of us.  And as we don’t know how to get it out of her, I can’t see much of another option.  We’ll keep you as safe as we can--.”

“No.”  Jane said, her voice strong even though Natasha could see her shaking.  “No.  I want to help.  I don’t just want to stay safe--Darcy, that’s why we’re here.  That’s why we came to SHIELD, to figure out what the hell was happening and to help.  Right?”  She asked, looking up at the black haired girl, whose face had twisted in displeasure.  “If you can’t get it out of me is there any way that I can use it to at least be useful?”

“If you can keep it safe that’d be very helpful,” Thor said, diplomatic as ever.

“She has a point,” Natasha said, and her eyes met Loki’s as he came to the same conclusion.  “If Thanos can weaponize it, why can’t we?”

“No.  You’re not putting my girlfriend’s life on the line and throwing her out into the middle of some friggin fight!”  Darcy countered.  Natasha watched as the arm wrapped around Jane tightened and felt her heart ache.  Jane looked up at Darcy and shook her head.  

“I want to.”  

“I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“Darcy, we’re all going to die if we don’t do _something_.  C’mon.”  Jane insisted.  She leaned up to press a kiss to Darcy’s cheek, and the woman shivered as though Jane had burned her.  “Uhh, can you guys train me, or do I have to try and do this all by myself?”  

**\--**

There wasn’t enough time for Loki to train her as they would’ve liked, and so Frigga was tasked with helping the young woman learn how to control the newfound power, Loki and Natasha stepping in whenever they’d get a chance to.  Loki was kept quite busy between traveling back and forth to Jotunheim and Asgard, wanting to provide a strong front for his people and ensuring that their needs were cared for, while Thor took off for Nidavellir to treat with the dwarves.  Natasha was still waiting to hear back from Lord Katrik of Muspelheim, so training with Jane was a welcome relief from the nervousness that came with waiting.  As if it wasn’t all nerve wracking enough, she’d still not heard anything back from Fenrir and the seeds of doubt had taken heart in her gut, much as she tried to keep them away.  She couldn’t help it.  Without the assurance that he was still alive, and able to try and pin the deed on Thanos or Jerome, there was no way she could hope for Vanaheim or Alfheim’s assistance, which they so desperately needed.  The inclusion of the Disir into their ranks was useful, but not near enough.  The warriors were fickle at the best of times, from what she’d come to understand from talking to Loki and Thor, so something more stable was far preferred.  

As if things would ever be that easy.  

But at least Jane was getting better at controlling the Aether.  A quick learner, once she’d mastered the basics of it she’d taken to training with the other mutants and soldiers of Asgard, working to project her new powers and pushing herself to near collapse.  Which, given how much energy the Aether took out of her, never took too long. With Darcy at her side, and Natasha eager to help whenever she could (to feel _helpful_ she couldn’t help but think), they’d always make sure that she got enough rest and time to recharge.  After the first time she’d collapsed, Loki had explained that the Aether would draw what energy it could from her to feed itself, the entity pulling from her to best keep itself protected.  That would come in handy, Loki had explained, as it would also keep Jane as protected as it could so long as her body hosted it.  Natasha had to admit, the power did become her, and apart from the occasional black-and-red eyed moment, Jane seemed to rather, well, enjoy it.  Not that Natasha could blame her, remembering just how empowering it could be to be able to stand up for oneself, to have a force to pull at when things got rough.  

Still, there were whispered, new rumors that Thanos and the remnants of the Chitauri wouldn’t be the only one they’d be fighting against.  Frigga had an informant, a woman who’d come to visit with the queen in the dead of night.  Had Natasha not been up talking with Charles and Erik about the training she wanted the rest of the mutants to go through, to be exposed to magic of all sorts while they still had the option, she might’ve missed the woman’s presence on Asgard.  As it was her green skin, shining pale in the moonlight that dripped from the open arch ways, was difficult to miss.  Even more so when Natasha caught the words “Thanos” and “infinity stones.”  She hurried to catch up with them, ignoring the screaming of her aching muscles as she pushed herself just a little further than she’d intended.  Frigga’s blue eyes caught her first, and she motioned for the woman to stop so that Nat could catch up and listen in as well.  Gamora, as she was introduced, eyed Nat with hardly veiled distrust.  Not that Natasha could blame her.  

“She’s my daughter-in-law, and she fights alongside Thor and Loki.  You can trust her,” Frigga promised, resting a hand on Gamora’s shoulder.  The woman flinched at the touch, and Frigga pulled away immediately.  

“Right.”  Gamora said, though her eyes never left Natasha’s, sizing her up for the next half a minute.  Nat didn’t dare break her gaze, swallowing thickly and folding her arms behind her back.  The less defiant she looked the better off it would be.  “As I said, the Dark Elves are awake, and Thanos promised them the Aether if they helped him conquer Asgard.  You know that’s not going to be a hardship for them.  But if you have the Aether, then there’s a chance that they’ll come here first.  Seek it out to keep from owing Thanos anything.  Then there’s nothing that they’ll stop at to destroy all the realms.”  

Frigga let out a soft hiss of air, her eyes narrowing.  “So we have two enemies to worry about.”

“Malekith is weak, still, from waking up.  Vulnerable.  If you would lend me some of your warriors--.”  

“How many do you need?”  Natasha asked, keeping her voice respectful as she could.  She had nothing against Frigga, but if the Dark Elves were to come at them then they needed to make sure that they were as well fortified as possible.  Besides, there was Jane, who was growing so much stronger the more time she spent working with the Aether, making leaps and bounds in her fighting prowess and her abilities to work the magic.  “And is there any chance that they’ll surrender if the Aether was not theirs to claim?”  

“How do you mean?”  Gamora asked, her brow furrowed, while Frigga shook her head.  

“Malekith is fueled by his desire for revenge, revenge on the Aesir people.  He’ll stop at nothing, whether or not Jane has the Aether.”

“But if it’s found a new host--.”

“He alone will know how to draw it out.”  Frigga insisted.  Gamora stared at the two of them, watching them go back and forth with a puzzled expression on her face.  “It’s not safe to even let him know that someone else has it, or he’ll target them rather than the whole realm.  She can’t withstand an attack, not from him.”  

Somehow Natasha doubted that.  Frigga was underestimating the woman’s strength and her fortitude of will.  Jane, she was willing to bet, would give this Malekith a run for his money.  Still, she looked to Gamora.  “How many do you need, then, to take them out now?”  

“Half a dozen of your best.”  

“You’ll have them.”  Natasha said with a nod, already running a list through her head.  “But I think Jane ought to go.  Give them a taste of their own medicine.”  

Frigga’s face hardened.  “And if Malekith draws out the Aether and we lose an infinity stone?  The Dark Elves are unforgiving, and that is to say nothing of Thanos and what he’ll do to them once he finds out that they have it.  If he’s collecting them, then we need to keep her as close as possible.”  

“You can’t lock her up,” Natasha insisted.  She reached out to take Frigga by the elbow, her brow pulled tight with seriousness.  “It won’t help anyone to keep her away from the fight, not when she’s so capable and able to help.”

“The Aether can’t help, it can only destroy.”  Gamora murmured, looking as though she was struggling to keep from rolling her eyes at Natasha’s insistence.  “You’re a fool to think that you can control it.”  

“ _She_ can,” Nat snarled, turning her frustration onto the woman.  What the hell did she know?  “I’ve seen her work at it, you haven’t.  Jane is stronger than you can imagine.”  

Gamora said nothing, pursing her lips.  Silence reigned between the three of them before Natasha broke it with a heavy sigh.  

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have attacked you like that.  It’s a trying time for all of us,” Nat forced herself to say.  She had to play the diplomat, whether or not she liked it.  It was her life now.  “I will arrange for our six best fighters to accompany you to take on Malekith and his warriors, but I would warn you to pull back if things begin to go awry.  We need as many fighters as we can, and I cannot lose any more men or women.”  

Gamora nodded her head.  “Understood.  And if it comes to the very worst perhaps bringing in an unknown fighter would throw him off.  Hopefully.”  Her shoulders lowered at that, one of her arms coming up to run a hand through her two-toned hair.  Natasha knew that pose, that exhaustion that ran deeper than just an aching of the muscles, that sank through bone until it fused with every strand of one’s being.  She’d felt it one too many times, and a strong desire came over her to offer Gamora a place to stay for the evening, to rest for what few hours she could grab.  It passed as the woman shook off what exhaustion she’d allowed herself to succumb to for the moment and instead turned to Frigga.  

“Thank you for listening to me, queen Frigga,” she said, then turned to Natasha.  “And for your help my lady.”

“Natasha,” Nat stuck her arm out.  “And it’s not a problem.  Thank you for everything you’ve done.  I’m guessing this is hardly the first time you two have met.”  

Frigga bobbed her head.  

“Right.  Well, no time like the present.  Did you want those warriors now, or do you need more time?”  

**\--**

She sent out Sif, Wanda, Fandral, and a handful of other fighters, not wanting to stretch their best out too thin but determined that Gamora should have their strongest and most mindful.  Since Loki and Thor were both gone the decision fell solely to Natasha, and her gut twisted as she watched the six of them disappear off the bifrost, taking one of Asgard’s stealthiest ships.  She could only pray it would be enough.  Until they heard back, she asked that Jane double her training.  Darcy protested, as she’d done whenever she felt like Jane was being pushed too far too fast, but Jane nodded in understanding.  

“There’s something coming, isn’t there?”  She asked Nat, the three of them isolated on the practice fields that Natasha had been so intimately familiar with not a couple of months ago.  Had time really moved that fast?  She could barely believe it.  “I can feel it.”

“What do you feel?”  Nat asked, expression keen as she watched Darcy take Jane’s hand in her own.  Their fingers threaded, and Jane squeezed her girlfriend’s hand tight.  

“Something strange.  It’s like it’s tugging at the edge of the Aether, and so it keeps tugging me with it.  And I’m getting visions.  Stronger than ever this time around.”  She swallowed, the movement painful looking as she winced.  “It’s been waking me up and everything.”  

Darcy made a noise of frustration.  “You told me that you just had a bad dream.”  

“Well, it kind of was,” Jane murmured.  “But it was the Aether and it showed me what it was meant for.  It’s like it’s trying to pull me to wipe out this world, to alter the reality of it and blot out--well it wants to reduce the nine realms to shades, husks of their former selves by wiping out the sun.  Suns,” she corrected.  “Every single one until there’s nothing left but ashes and darkness.  I keep feeling it tug at me, like it thinks I can do that.”  

“You could,” Natasha said, not about to sugar coat it.  Jane’s eyes blew wide at her words, and Darcy pursed her lips.  “That’s the point.  That’s what power is, isn’t it?  Knowing what you could do, what you are able to, and choosing against it, right?”  She sighed.  “I’m not going to lie to you.  There’s a dark elf called Malekith that will try to take it from you if he can.  He’ll kill you, and everyone that stands in his way, until he gets the Aether.”  She watched as both women tensed, Darcy’s face far too transparent for her own good as she set her jaw and tightened her hold on Jane’s hand.  The shorter woman just looked wary, as though she had a good inkling as to why Natasha would be telling her that when they hadn’t heard about it before.  

“It’s why you ordered my training to increase.  He’s coming, isn’t he?”

“We sent out a small force to make sure that doesn’t happen.”  Natasha said.  

“But if they fail--.”

“Then I want you to be prepared.”  

“I will be.”  Jane said, and for half a second Natasha swore she saw the woman’s eyes flash red, the Aether tugging at Nat’s own power, until it quieted and went still inside Jane once more.  Good, then she _was_ gaining some semblance of control over it.  They didn’t have time for her to be unprepared.

**\--**

Lord Kartik returned Natasha’s request for a summons by sending three of his own men at the end of the week.  Jane had been making remarkable progress now that she knew the ramifications of her failure, and though she wasn’t near as well equipped as her girlfriend even Darcy was pitching in, learning to fight when she could.  It was small, hand to hand stuff, but it would serve her well if the moment ever came.  Natasha was watching her train with Clint when the fire demons came up to her, led by Volstagg who looked less than thrilled at their presence.  

“My lady,” he called, catching her attention as she stared over at the oncoming group.  Her body went taut with confusion and worry, palms itching to grab hold of the knife grip just above her left hip, but instead forced herself to smile as the four men came closer.  “May I introduce Lord Oded Katrikson of Muspelheim, heir to the throne, and his two personal escort . . . ah, I’m sorry I don’t know your names.”  

The two demons shook it off.  For all that Natasha had been warned against trusting their kind, that they were likely to filet her as soon as look at her, they didn’t look all that intimidating.  In fact, they looked damn near mortal, each of them tanned skin.  Oded stepped closer and extended a hand, flashing a sharp-toothed grin that set her on edge as she offered her own hand and he pressed his thin lips to the back of it.  

“A pleasure to meet you, Lady Natasha.  I’ve heard much of you, but it pales in comparison to meeting you.”  He said, holding onto her hand perhaps a little longer than strictly necessary.  She tugged it back to her side, her smile as polite as ever.  

“The pleasure is mine my lord.  It’s good to finally meet you.  I’ve been looking to meet with you and your father.”  

His chuckle sent shivers up her spine, an echo of something far more dangerous she was certain laid just beneath the calm brown-black eyes and the ever present grin that was beginning to make her uneasy.  “My dear, that’s why I’m here.  My father wishes to speak with you.  Are you available to leave now?”  

Well then, why didn’t he just say so?  


	14. World on Fire

Heimdall’s gaze was wary when Natasha walked back with the demons in tow down the rainbow bridge and into the Bifrost observatory. She’d had just time enough to speak with Frigga, to tell her where she was going, before Oded had insisted that they leave, and soon. She wondered what had him so worked up, but didn’t argue with his haste. It was for the best that they get this resolved as quickly as possible, that was true. Still it didn’t help that Heimdall was so on guard when they arrived, and that he wished her the best of luck with a look that said that he didn’t like what was happening. She reached out to lay a hand on his arm, wishing she could reassure him with more than just her high hopes that it would all turn out well enough in the end, but without anything concrete there wasn’t much else to say or do.

“Tell the others where I’ve gone when they get back?” She asked.

He nodded, and before she knew it the Bifrost had tugged them up and she was sailing past galaxies, whole solar systems and new constellations laid out before her eyes. It grew warmer and warmer as they traveled, finally stopping upon an enormous black rock when the heat finally hit her. Sweat broke out on her brow and the back of her neck almost immediately, and she wished she knew a spell to help cool her down the same way she had kept herself warm on Jotunheim.

Her gut ached with the reminder, but she shoved it away. Later. She could think on it later.

“This way.” Oded, who’d been standing behind her, brought a shout from her lips as his fingers found her shoulder and tightened. It was as if the heat had melted away the man that she’d first seen, and instead stood an enormous figure that towered above her. Broader than even Thor, his amber eyes flashed with the firelight of the world around them, skin having blackened with the heat until it resembled onyx instead of actual flesh. The others had changed similarly and her throat tightened to notice it. Fuck.

“You’ve never met a fire demon, have you?” Oded asked, sounding more amused than offended. Thankfully. She shook her head, swallowing down the hundred questions that threatened to spill out of her mouth and instead followed behind in wary silence, noticing the way that the world seemed to warp, to rise and fall with the heat of the land. The black rock that they walked upon stretched outwards, sometimes dipping low to expose pockets of fire and magma, other times it rose high into great mounds that grey, ash covered houses stood on. From one extreme to the other, she supposed. It was no wonder Loki had no interest coming here.

Over the crest of one enormous hill, beneath which she noticed more homes had been built into, stood what she could only assume to be the dwelling place of the king. While Asgard had a palace with enormous parapets and columns, large enough to house any number of creatures, this had been built into the earth, a steep staircase bringing them further into the earth than before. The heat grew stronger as they walked, and as though sensing her distress, she felt the runes on her wrist begin to finally cool her down even as they passed by open flames burning in grand, open halls. She was grateful, more than ever before, for the comfort of the chill, and the reminder of Loki’s welcome touch after they’d spent an evening together brought a not entirely unwelcome smile to her face. Perhaps she’d been foolish to just assume that the dwarves would be the only ones to carve their palace into their earth as she’d been told about, for as Oded led her further down, deeper into the catacombs of Muspelheim. There seemed to be an innumerable amount of winding staircases that twisted and ran out of sight, disappearing behind high walls that constructed the enormous rooms they passed through. Despite the fire that was ever present shadows were their constant companions, and more than once she swore she saw one or two move of their own accord without anything to cast it.

“What is it that you provide and export, if you don’t mind my asking?” She said, keeping up with Oded as best she could, forcing herself to take longer strides so as not to get lost.

His grin, which showed pearl-white teeth as long as her fingers, brought heat to her cheeks, as though her question was ridiculous. “Protection. Magic amulets and potions. Weapons, of all sorts.”

Well then, she was glad to be asking them to join their side. “And what do you ask in return?” She asked. “What is considered fair trade?”

“I don’t think you wish to know the answer to that, my lady.”

Well. When he put it that way. She pursed her lips and kept it at that, mulling over just what could possibly be so terrible and considering for the first time that he might be right. There was likely a reason that she’d not been told much about them, and Dra’ace’s humor at her insistence to go and visit with the demons might not have been entirely out of place.

Still. They needed them, even if no one wanted to admit it or do the work to guide them onto their side.

Katrik sat on his throne deep within the earth. He was, if possible, even larger than his son, filling up the whole room when he stood at their entrance. If Natasha had felt tiny before, she was certain never to have felt smaller in her life, craning her neck to see him once she’d stood up close enough. Without warrant, her mind clouded with the stories of giants that her mother had once told her, and why it was so important to keep from affronting them. She didn’t doubt the same would ring true here. Unbidden, she bent the knee in front of him, her head dipping down, neck far more exposed than she ever wanted it to be.

“King Katrik, a pleasure to meet you.” She said, keeping her voice loud enough to be heard over the chatter that had arose around them. The hall had filled with, who she could only assume were courtiers, those who spent their lives close to the king and had an intimate knowledge of what happened within it. Those who she might be able to use, if she could get them talking, to figure out just how to best broker this arrangement, who would know Katrik far better than Loki or Thor.

“Queen Natasha of Jotunheim, it is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance. Your letters were intriguing at best. As long as I can remember I’ve not held a Jotun in my own house before.” The king sounded amused, even smug, and she chewed on the inside of her cheek.

“Then I am glad to be the first to grace your halls, my king.” She stood, back spear-straight and the smile on her lips even and simple, even if it ached after the first few moments. “Your home is beautiful. Intimidating, of course, so I can understand why those before me were too frightened to come and visit.”

His laugh filled the hall, echoed by the pleased titters from the courtiers around them, and before her the king seemed to shrink. She wasn’t forced to stare up at him, that was certain, and smooth, tanned skin began to cover the form that had once been so dark she swore she was looking at more of a reflection of the night than a man in front of her. Now the king stood but a few inches taller than she did, though his eyes remained the same hell-red that she’d seen blazing beneath the cracks in the crust above. One calloused hand extended to take her own, and she was pleased to find her skin didn’t burn when she placed her hand in his own, giving him a quick, appraising look. Now that he’d shifted his son was doing the same, and she saw the resemblance there, the same unsure, distrusting glance that they shared, the tightness in Oded’s stance even as the three of them took a walk through the now laughably enormous halls. In his letters Katrik had promised her a private audience, and she was glad to see that he was keeping his word.

At least she hoped.

Heimdall would keep her safe, she was sure of it. And if he couldn’t . . . well, then she could only hope her death might be another point to rally behind. It was all a game of strategy, wasn’t it? And though Asgard and Jotunheim might not have been at its strongest, she doubted that the fire demons would want to start a war against their combined forces. She let that calm her heart, keep her vision steady as she let herself be led into a chamber a few feet deeper into the fortress Katrik had built for himself.

“How do you protect yourselves from being invaded?” She asked. “If you’re deep into the ground, with no covering,” she turned her head up. Sure enough there were portions of the ceiling that had been carved free to allow her a glance every so often up at the sky, a strange dusty orange, with what she could only assume was a pair of suns hiding behind thick, grey clouds. How odd this world was.

“With all due respect,” Oded said at her other side, and her head turned to watch the way his amber eyes fixated on her. “There aren’t many with the stones enough to wish to try and conquer Muspelheim, and those that do find that they arrange a far longer stay here than they intended.”

She supposed that was as much of a warning as she got. Katrik said nothing, leading her to a large table she imagined would seat an entire council should the need have arisen, though at present there were only a handful of chairs. Natasha opted to stand as the other two took their seats, and the king’s gaze turned thoughtfully to Natasha.

“Please, present your case, my lady.”

“King Katrik, Prince Oded, I come to you looking for an alliance between our realms. All three of them. As you said, my king, there has never before been a Jotun queen who has come to speak with you, and while I am honored to be the first I believe that our cultures and realms can learn much from one another. I wish to open up a greater trade between our three realms, but also I come to you with a request. Thanos, the mad titan, destroyed my home realm, Midgard, and now seeks the destruction of Asgard and Jotunheim. You know this. It’s not Thanos’ way to remain discreet or to veil his desires for long, but I come to request your assistance. The conquering and destruction of three of the nine realms will not slake the Titan’s lust for power and death, you know this as surely as I do.” She paused, giving her words a hint more gravity, and keeping her gaze on the king. He’d steepled his fingers in front of him on the table, red eyes narrowed as he listened. She hoped that was a good sign.

“Jotunheim and Asgard need the assistance of Muspelheim’s armies, we need its protection, and in return we shall offer you our own as well.”

“Yes and that worked brilliantly for Vanaheim. Their king now rots in the great hall while his widow weeps for him.” Oded interrupted. Katrik silenced him with a look that would’ve filleted Natasha alive had she been on the receiving end. As it was his son simply gave a shrug of his shoulders.

“It’s the truth.”

“The late king was murdered by those he thought to be friends, Prince Jerome of Alfheim. I saw it with my own eyes, and am working to prove the prince’s guilt. Neither Asgard nor Jotunheim is bedfellow to traitors,” Natasha said, her eyes narrowing as she stared at the prince. “Unless you’re trying to prove I am, my prince, for which I’d love to see the proof.”

“And I’d love to know what sort of bedfellow you are.” He said, unabashedly, a smirk twisting his lips into a look that wasn’t entirely too unpleasant but shot shivers down her spine.

“Enough,” Katrik snarled as he glowered back at his son. “If you cannot keep your peace you will find yourself another place to sit, another realm to try and claim as your own you worm.”

That wiped the smile free from the prince’s face, and Natasha waited for him to settle before she picked back up again. “I witnessed the murder with my own eyes, though we had to leave Vanaheim to keep from being waylaid there for longer. I swear to you, king Katrik, that the death of Dra’ace was none of Asgard’s doing.”

“No, indeed. Poison was never Odin’s way, nor Laufey’s, and I have little reason to think their sons would seek similar means.” The king supplied, extending a hand as though to ask her to continue. And she did. She offered him her case for as long as her lungs would let her, taking enormous gasps of air as she all but talked herself into a fainting spell, the heat beginning to get to her head. Her knees went weak at one moment, the spell that kept her cool faltering so that the air grew stifling even as she took as great a lungful as she could without coughing, and she took a moment to compose herself. She had to do this, had to succeed. Had to prove to them that they weren’t a lost cause. They needed their armies.

At the end of it she stood, knuckles white as she clutched the back of a chair, feeling the sweat pooling down the back of her dress even as she resolutely held her place. Katrik’s face was near unreadable, his eyes far away, focused on something else. Hopefully doing the math and figuring out how many troops to send.

“You have no concrete contract to offer, however? Nothing to bind the realms together?” Oded asked, arching a brow.

“I can have one drawn up immediately, my prince, should it please you.” Natasha assured them with a faint smile.

“No.” Katrik said finally, looking back up at her and standing.

Her heart faltered. “Surely if you would prefer to do one neither myself nor my husband would object--.”

“My queen do not play coy with me.”

She swallowed her words, feeling her spine stiffen further, her knees locking into place as she stood her ground.

“We will not accept these terms that you have so graciously offered. Muspelheim will keep from this war as we have all others. If you have form of payment for mercenaries or killers, then certainly I would be more than happy to speak with you about it. But without an offer of payment--.”

“An alliance--.”

“Would benefit you and your kin. We have no need for your protection, however, when it is you who come begging at our doorstep. What honor is there in that?”

“The same sort that lies with those who cower within their walls of stone,” Natasha spat, the words contorting her face as her heart picked up in her chest. Oded was on his feet before she’d gotten the last words from her mouth but Katrik extended a hand to hold him back.

“Consider your words carefully. I admire your spirit my queen. Do not confuse that with a tolerance for cheek from queens who are not so well versed in politics to know when to keep their tongue.”

She’d cut his from his mouth and show him how well she could keep her tongue in check when his own had stopped wagging. Still, she kept her silence, her eyes falling to the ground in a look of contrition. “My apologies.” She could barely stomach the words, but knew they had to be said. “I will return to Asgard, then, with your answer. Thank you for taking the time to hear my request out, King Katrik.”

“Yes, you will.”

“Father--.”

“Silence.” Katrik’s voice rang in the hall, startling Natasha so much that she took a step back, not having imagined such a loud voice could come from a man her size. Oded said nothing else, but when Natasha looked to him he jerked his head for her to follow. She gave one last sweeping curtsy before following him out. In each scenario she’d played out in her head about how the meeting would have gone, about how many soldiers they could procure, she’d never thought to be leaving entirely empty handed.

“Your gatekeeper will be able to reach you once you are aboveground. I suggest you leave immediately from there. I wouldn’t advise returning unless you have a serious offer, either.” Oded said, his words dark and biting, further blows to her ego and how sure she’d been that she’d presented a strong enough case. It wasn’t supposed to have ended this way.

“What would you wish for in exchange?” She asked, though her gut told her she wouldn’t like the answer.

“I’d take a tumble with you for favorable words in my father’s ear.”

He wasn’t leading her out. She was sure she’d have recognized at least some small portion of the walk, but this--these staircases and halls were all new. Her heart caught in her throat as she looked up at him, her eyes narrowing. Hadn’t she been warned of this? Why hadn’t she considered he’d be stupid enough to pull something?

“I am happily married.” She assured him with gritted teeth.

“And when has that ever stopped anyone? It certainly shouldn’t stop anyone as lovely as you from giving more freely.” Oded reached out a hand to grasp her chin, but she pulled away, looking back and around to try and find some semblance of an escape. She’d allowed herself to be moved from the presence of others, whose expectations would’ve kept him in check. Norns, what an idiot she’d been.

“Take me home, sir.”

“I’m not ready to.”

He’d backed her up against a wall, his eyes dark and teeth bared in a wide grin as he pinned her with his arms braced on either side of her. She stared up at him, the same panic that she’d felt in the face of Berserker Thor weighing her gut down, but as he came closer she brought her knee up high into his groin. He doubled over, and she shoved him away, concentrating as hard as she could on her magic to keep him from her. Ice sprang from her fingertips where she touched him, wrapping tighter and tighter around him even as he began to grow in size, shedding his human skin. She didn’t stay to see what happened, picking up her skirts and running down the halls and up the stairs where he’d once led her. There came shouts from behind her, but she paid no attention to them. She’d just made it to the top of the stairs and shouted for Heimdall when a hand grasped her leg, and the pair of them were pulled up and through the cosmos. The grip on her ankle didn’t let up until she’d fallen hard onto her back on the floor of the bifrost, and kicked with all of her might to undo the fingers that had burned through the protective leather of her high boots. She was grateful she’d worn them, then.

It wasn’t Heimdall who had his sword pointed at Oded’s throat, however, but Thor, whose teeth were bared and his eyes narrowed as he stared down the future king of Muspelheim. Loki helped Natasha up to her feet, his cool fingers welcoming her home, and she buried herself in his embrace as Thor lifted Oded to his feet and led him, by the throat, into Asgard. There’d be more than just words for what he’d tried to do, Natasha was sure of it. 


	15. The Roaring Thunder

Why the bloody realms were mostly ruled by men Natasha couldn't make out for the life of her as she pulled herself out of the bath. ' _Weak-willed, arrogant, they only think with their bloody cocks. It's beyond ridiculous.'_  She had insisted on washing the feel of Oded off of her, but even as she'd worked to scrub half of her skin off it hadn't done anything to alleviate the irritation she felt at the turn of events. How many other men had to try and make passes at her before they realized that it never got them anywhere? She dressed herself with quick, nimble fingers that made short work tying the lacings up on her undershirt before she pulled on another. Without the extreme heat of Muspelheim the temperate climate of Asgard felt almost too cold, though she had managed to will herself to stop shivering. She needed to present herself as strong, unshaken. She was going to deal with Oded herself, whether or not Loki and Thor liked it.

Assuming there was anything left of the dumbass by the time they were done with him.

That thought drove her mad, teeth gritting. It was her right more so than theirs to take vengeance for what he'd tried to do to her, and she worked to shake off the doubt in the back of her head that told her she wasn't strong enough to handle it.  _Bullshit_ she wasn't. Hadn't it been her who'd withstood Thor in his Berserker form, who'd been clever enough to stop Loki before he could align the realms to Asgard's timeframe? Her, who'd managed to get Fenrir's approval and loyalty, who'd thought to have him seek out the truth behind Dra'ace's death? The reminder that she hadn't heard from him weighed heavy on her shoulders as it came to mind, but they already ached from the weight of the world so she would just have to trust that he was handling it as best he could. There was no reason to think otherwise.

The knock at the door had her fingers slipping around the hilt of her nearest dagger before she could wholly realize it.

"Come in."

One of the royal guards opened the tall door, though Nat's spine and mind alike didn't relax until he'd bowed his head and cast his gaze reverently just above her head, not looking directly in her eyes. "My lady, I come with a request for your presence from King Thor and King Loki, who wait for you within the King's antechamber."

Natasha slid the dagger into the sheath at her thigh and nodded, tugging a nearby wrap over her shoulders before she followed the guard out. This paranoia really had to stop. As she was led down the halls she could hear the shouts and training cries coming from out in the courtyard, glad that at least they'd kept up with the work that they'd been doing. She wondered whether or not anyone else knew what had happened in Muspelheim. For her part she hoped not. The less people who knew the better, though she could only assume that Katrik was made aware of what it was that his son had done. Well, she'd been looking for leverage, hadn't she? And if it got the fire demons on their side, well then at least she wasn't  _entirely_  useless.

No. She couldn't think like that. Her heart beat all the harder in her chest as she chewed on the inside of her cheek. Outside, thunder rumbled, and she felt the noise reverberating around in her chest cavity. Thor must not have been pleased with the turn of events, but with Loki at his side at least he would be temperate. For the time.

Temperate certainly wasn't the way she found Thor, wearing a hole in the rug in front of his bed, flipping Mjolnir in his right hand. The uru head crackled with energy, and she sighed as she stepped closer. Loki's eyes lit on her as soon as she walked in, and in three enormous strides he stood close enough to wrap his arms tight around her middle. He hadn't changed back to his Aesir skin and the chill of his body seeped through her extra layers. It was more of a comfort than the chilled air after her bath, however, a familiarity that she was grateful for as she buried her face into the crook of his neck.

"I'll chop that bastard's head off myself and put it on a pike," Loki growled, breath warm against her skin. Thor looked over at his words,a dn the boom of thunder echoed his support for his brother's words. Natasha pulled away, shaking her head even as she felt her runes heat up in response to Loki and Thor's own magic. That was curious.

"We need him alive," she murmured. "We cannot kill him. Did you send a message to his father?"

"Aye." Thor said. "Though there hasn't been a response."

"We'll send one again, demanding Katrik's troops. I would have them used to atone for Oded's attempt."

"His men are more likely to turn on us and join Thanos' cause. They won't take well to being tricked." Loki advised her, though he didn't push the matter too hard, words sounding more of a suggestion than anything else.

"If they do then we take Oded's head."

Thor's face lit up. Nat smiled, and took his hand in hers, twisting their fingers together even as Loki kept his arm cemented around her waist. "And once we lay waste to Thanos' forces we make Muspelheim pay in spades for it."

* * *

 

As she'd planned, Natasha was the first to visit with the fallen fire prince since his incarceration. She insisted on going alone though neither of her lovers were pleased with that. But she needed to, the back of her mind urging her to prove not only to herself but everyone else that she could do this. How was she supposed to lead her men and women into a fight if she ran away and skirted from the problem when it mattered like this did? But more than that this was personal. He'd made it so. He'd attacked  _her_ , not her country, and for that she'd see him head on without the assistance of anyone else. So she walked alone under the palace floor, taking the stone steps slowly, the heels of her shoes clacking soft against the hard surface as she descended deeper into the earth. The dungeons had been carved into the very foundation of the palace where the Aesir had conducted their affairs of state. Funny to think, she supposed, that they all lived on the backs of those who once sought to make enemies of Asgard. Amusing how their presence, or rather the necessity to house these villains-supported those who would uphold justice. It brought a wry smile to her face nonetheless.

The cavern was grand, she'd give it that. When she'd trained to be a guard she'd led batches of prisoners down those very steps, knew in the catacombs where the dangerous prisoners were housed, and where those who hardly posed a threat were set aside to think about their actions before the tribunal was called once a year to determine the remnants of their sentencing. There were a couple of guards that she recognized, none of whom bothered her as she took a sharp turn to the left, away from the main stretch of petty thieves and marauders. Once out of sight of those who knew her she pulled her shift around her tighter as the air grew dry and brought a chill zig-zagging up her spine. This was no place for a fire demon.

Loki had assured her that every precaution had been taken to ensure Oded remained powerless. She hoped so, because the shouts echoing from where he was being kept hardly inspired friendship or welcome. Some part of her, admittedly, took pleasure at knowing that, and at seeing him bound as he was. There was a thick grey torc around his very human neck and the metal was inscribed with runes that burned red everytime he so much as flexed, ensuring that even as he tried to use his magic it kept it trapped deep inside his body, refusing to even let him change forms. Once she'd witnessed the same device being placed around the throat of a mage they'd caught, and watched as it was tightened to permanently stay around his throat. The man had screamed as if his skin was being ripped off inch by inch, and after having seen the damage he'd done to his very  _children_ she'd found it fitting to say the least. Now, with Oded trapped in the same device, she found the justice was sound enough for her liking.

Oded calmed upon seeing her, and his eyes  _burned_ into hers. "I have nothing to say to you, wench." His voice filled the space between them, cracking from having been used too much,

"Good, then you'll listen instead." Her words were firmer than she'd thought, offering no alternative. He snarled and spit, fists tight at his side as the torc lit up once more. His whole body was shaking, though she couldn't be certain if it was due to the chill or her words. Was it too much to hope for both? "You and I both know that you deserve to be in here for what you did. An envoy was sent to your father with our terms Your safe return home after he commits his troops to our cause. You'll remain here until the end of the battle, under protection to see that no harm comes to you, should he accept."

Oded's laugh reverberated around his cell, dry as the snapping of firewood before it was sent to the flames. She could barely keep from jumping at the noise, goosebumps rising on her arms. "You don't know Katrik well then. Surely your husband or lover ought to have told you my father won't do anything of the sort. He has only ever believed in numbers and the truths they tell."

A part of Natasha wanted to call down the forcefield that separated them and slap the smile off of his face, drag her nails down the side of his cheek until she felt his flesh part and the bubble of his hot blood beneath her fingertips. Her stance straightened, her shoulders tightening, instead.

"So what will be believe, then, when I send him back one son without a head? What do those numbers say?"

"You'd risk open war-assuming Thanos doesn't kill you himself-with my people when your own forces will be lucky to survive the first?" Oded asked, a laugh in his eyes and voice. For half a moment she reconsidered letting Thor and Loki take a crack at him.

Instead she stepped closer, her lips twisting into a smirk that stopped his laugh dead on his tongue. "I don't know. Might be fun. Give my people something else to focus on. You see, Oded, the interesting thing about loss is that once everything else is gone-taken from you-you tend to stop giving much of a shit about the rest of it." Her face contorted into a snarl that cut her to the bone, exposing the pained nerve of Midgard, of the death of Kitty, of everything she'd thought permanent and fixed being ripped away. It'd been bubbling so close to the surface that to just let it  _go_ , let him see just what it had done to her, relaxed her shoulders and her stance considerably. "And believe me: we've known loss, Oded. Let's see what your father does under the same circumstance."

The prince took a step forward, placing his hand against the force field despite the sizzle of burning flesh that filled the air, the scent of it burning Natasha's nose. "I'll be sure to burn you last, then, so you know full and well you had so much more to lose than you ever thought."

"Not if I manage to gut you first, swine." She growled. His response was to shout and yell, fist slamming against the wall that kept them separated as she turned on her heel to walk out, head held high despite the obscenities shouted at her, his prophecies about standing over her corpse and bringing all Hel and more to her home. Her hands bled and shook from how hard she'd squeezed her nails into her palms to keep from showing the tremor of fear his threats inspired. If it came to it that they couldn't defeat Thanos, with her last breath she swore she'd find a way to get back into the castle and rip Oded limb from limb with her bare hands.

* * *

 

She met back up with Thor and Loki in the antechamber when she was finished, and by then her trembling had gotten so bad she could hardly wrap her fingers around the door handle to open it. Loki was gone, she thought to ensure that the message was received by King Katrik this time, and so it was Thor whose arms Natasha all but collapsed into. He held her even as she bit the inside of her cheek to try and hold it together, his fingers running through her hair.

"I hate him." She managed to bite out, and he murmured his agreement into her ear, kissing the shell of it as he crushed her body against his. The slight pain was a comfort of its own, grounding her, and the pulse of his heart that mirrored hers. For a moment she managed to close her eyes and focus on the steady sound, grateful for the way it silenced all her own thoughts.

"Do you think Katrik will agree to the terms?" She asked after allowing herself a couple more minutes of peace, of finding heat and comfort in his grip, before pulling away and staring at him. Oded had told her that Thor and Loki were supposed to have known better than to have attempted to make contact and barter with the king, but they hadn't stopped her when she'd insisted on the first attempt, nor the second.

Now Thor wouldn't meet her eyes and her stomach sank. If they'd known it was a bad idea why had they indulged her? She ought to have just sent the head of the man's son to him in a box, and open war with them be damned. There would be a battle one way or another, what did the enemy matter at that point? She swore Thanos was mere days away from launching another attack, though at which ally she couldn't be sure. With Alfheim and Vanaheim out of the question . . . well, it left them vulnerable.

As the thought entered her head she glanced out the window of Thor's room, expecting to see the titan's troops marching down the rainbow bridge.

"Thor, don't lie to me," she said, voice firm in the absence of his answer.

"He's not been known to broker many deals in the past." Thor finally admitted. "My father had a monstrous time trying to get him to join in an attempt against the Jotunar, and they're mortal enemies. Still, Katrik wouldn't budge, and so Odin leveled the city himself."

"And if he didn't bend to Odin, why would he do me the honors, son of his in captivity or not?" Natasha filled in the rest of what he hadn't said. Excellent. Good to know. She pulled away from Thor and ran a hand through her hair, all but ripping out the tangles that had set in since she hadn't taken the time to brush it through after her bath. "What of the dwarves that you went to visit?"

"They agreed to supply us with an even one-thousand of their warriors."

She nodded her head, gladdened by at least some progress. "Still nothing from Fenrir?"

"Not that I have heard."

She'd have to ask Loki, then, in case the man had gotten into touch with him. "I promised Oded that I'd send his father his head if Katrik didn't agree to fight with us." She didn't mean to murmur the words, had hoped that they'd be  _stronger_ , but they only came out deadened on her tongue.

"Then at least I have something to look forward to."

She squeezed Thor's hand as he took hers, shooting him the only smile she could manage, and small though it might've been he mirrored it. "God. Thor, what are we even doing?" She asked, looking up at him now that the words were finally out. She hadn't thought she'd ever figure out just how to word what it was that gnawed at her mind, but, well, there it was. His hand left hers, stretching upwards to cup the side of her face. She pressed her cheek against the warmth of his palm, her lips brushing against the calloused skin, the gesture as comfortable as a long breath after being underwater for too long.

"We're fighting for our homes. For those who've died. We're fighting because it's what needs to be done, and we cannot lose hope now. Natasha. We'll get through this."

She hoped so. But even if there was victory to be found, even if they managed to somehow pull out of it-all three of them managing to somehow survive-what would they leave in their wake? He bent down to kiss her. She hadn't realized that she'd been trembling until she felt his steady breathing and body pressed firmly against hers.

The first explosion wracked the city and forced the pair of them to part, eyes going wide, before they sprinted in turn out of the antechamber and down the hall, horns blaring through the city. Natasha closed her eyes to focus in on her dress, to will it to change into the catsuit she'd defeated Fenrir in and had worn when she'd gotten Odin's attention so many decades ago. Thor summoned Mjolnir, and with it came the chain and armor that he wore into battle, electricity crackling up his arm as he led the way, Natasha hot on his heels, her own weapons appearing in hand.

So it began


	16. The Pain and the Bitter Taste

Natasha was pleased to see that Gamora had shown up and was rounding up the quickly arriving troops by the time that Thor and Natasha got there, her green skin already slick with sweat and her brown eyes finding Natasha’s as soon as the pair of them came into view. Already swarms of the Aesir, Midgardians, and few Vanir that had traversed before the death of Dra’ace were being pulled into the city, sequestered into the shelters that Loki and Frigga had designed for this very day. There wouldn’t be much room to fight the Elves, not without severe destruction to the land, but what protective space they could find would be defended. From the corner of her eye she could see Jane struggling to get to them, shoving Darcy away even as the dark haired woman shouted for her. Natasha faltered, calling for Thor to keep going and help Gamora round up those who could fight while she turned back and booked it towards Jane. Her eyes had gone red, glazed over with what Natasha was coming to associate with the Aether.

“You can’t come with me!” Jane shouted back to her girlfriend, her head snapping to stare at Darcy, brown hair tied in a braid at the back of her head to keep it from getting in her way. Darcy grabbed Jane by the shoulders, her eyes wide beneath her glasses.

“I’m going to fight with you!”

“Darcy, you need to go be with the others,” Natasha added as she got close enough, having to shout in order to be heard by them both. Jane nodded, blinking rapidly to keep from giving in to the Aether entirely. Not just yet.

“I want to help!” Darcy shouted, her voice cracking with frustration.

“You’re going to distract more than anything else. And if we fail we have to have some defenders willing to take up arms against those who come after everyone left. Those who cannot fight need defenses of their own--and that needs to be you. Now go!” Natasha said, her voice snapping so hard that Darcy nearly took a step back. Blinking rapidly, she clenched her jaw and pulled her girlfriend in for one last kiss, Jane’s hands buried in Darcy’s hair.

“Don’t you dare let her die,” Darcy barked once they’d pulled away, her fury taking Natasha by surprise. That was the last word from her before Darcy took off towards the city, shouting for the other citizens to move faster. She didn’t look back. Natasha’s hand flew to Jane, and felt her magic spike as soon as her fingertips met the cotton of Jane’s shirt.

“You’re ready?” She murmured. “If not then I need you to join the others. I can’t risk you if you’re not--.”

“I am.”

“You’re sure?”

“We’ll find out, won’t we?” Jane’s voice had morphed into a growl, her attention snapping onto one of the ships that flew above them, scouting the area. Natasha watched it go, eyes searching out its weaknesses, before a high pitched hum and a beam of light burst through the hull and forced it to drop into the ground. Tony Stark’s Iron Man suit shot through the sky where it had been a couple seconds ago, followed by a slew of Asgard’s own ships. They each seemed to be firing similar beams of energy, and Nat sent out a silent prayer of gratitude to whoevers idea it was to let him upgrade the Asgardian tech. She’d have to see if he had any sort of ideas for making communication between them all a possibility. They’d discussed that, as a rallying point, Thor would send up a single thick bolt of lightning, but there just simply wasn’t time to pull everyone together and devise a plan, not then. Taking Jane by the arm, it was a mark of how far the woman had come with her training that the force didn’t lash out at Natasha as the pair of them ran towards where Thor and Gamora were working to finish assembling whoever they could. Steve and Sif had already gathered, Natasha felt a tremor of relief to see, as had Fandral and Wanda, though two of the original other guards she’d sent hadn’t made it. Volstagg and Hogun were there, the pair grim faced, as a handful of mutants stayed behind to join in. Nat came to stop in front of the gathering group, doing the quickest headcount she could as more of the einherjar joined, spears and shields at the ready. Gamora was already assembling a group to track down the larger ship, the one she knew to be hiding and releasing the smaller scouts.

“Their cloaking tech is going to keep it from even Heimdall being able to see them, so if you see an anomaly in the water or on land, or in the sky you point it out and we’ll direct the ships there,” she shouted over the din of the landing elves and the fire being exchanged between the Asgardian and Dark Elves’ ships, Tony’s suit whirring overhead again. Some of the Elves had landed on the bifrost, though, piling out of the ships in numbers that Natasha wouldn’t have believed possible if she wasn’t seeing them all but multiply in front of her face. Her arm reached out and clenched on Thor’s once she got close enough.

“We need to find Malekith,” she said, leaning up to mutter it in his ears. “Can you buy us some time until we can draw him out? Something tells me it won’t be long.”

His blue eyes were already glazed with the hints of the same berserker she’d seen on Midgard, darkening at the heady prospect of battle, but she could still see some hints at a question forming. “You’re going to take him on alone?”

“Not alone. Jane’s going to be there.”

She could see it in the way he turned his head to spare the short woman a quick glance that he didn’t think it was the best idea. There wasn’t time to argue. Nat caught him by the chin and tugged his face closer to hers and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Trust me.” Was all she could muster when they pulled away. She had a plan, and she had hope. It coursed through her veins along with her adrenaline, keeping her senses keen. The shouts of their people, the echoing of guns going off--she swore she heard the shields around the palace being activated and sure enough when she turned her head she saw the beginnings of the golden shield arcing from the ground.

“Very well.” Thor agreed with little more than a nod of his head. “Loki, and our allies, have been alerted of the battle. Gamora will be keeping the bifrost clear for Heimdall to bring them through.”

As if on cue, Natasha heard Gamora’s battle cry cut through the air, taking off with the first company, Steve and Sif at her side with swords in hand and they rushed forward to meet the elves head on. Natasha just caught sight of Gamora sliding to avoid one of the shots from an elf’s gun as she heard one of their ships come whirring overhead, dropping a couple dozen more warriors just to their left.

With a roar that echoed through the city Thor thrust the fist holding Mjolnir into the air. The atmosphere crackled with ozone, and the skies echoed with a resounding crack before lightning struck half a dozen of them. It was all that the second force needed to push forward, shields raised so that the beams of energy fired bounced off the polished, bronze surfaces. And still more reinforcements were coming from the city, breaking free from the protection of Heimdall’s shield as Natasha tugged Jane away from it all, petrified that a stray shot might hit her before they even got to Malekith. The woman’s whole body thrummed with energy, and she stumbled backwards when Nat pulled her away.

“I want to fight,” she snarled, yanking her arm back. The Aether thrummed just beneath the surface, shoving at Natasha’s own magic. Her skin itched at the contact.

“We have to find Malekith, remember?” Nat said, eyes searching for an opening, for a figure to be leading them. She wouldn’t have been amazed if he was hiding behind his forces, waiting for the Aether to show itself, and if the way that it pulsed was any indication then she didn’t imagine it would be too long. Find Malekith, kill him, and then his warriors would have no choice but to surrender. She motioned for Jane to follow her, running towards the edges of the city where they would have the smallest chance to wreak havoc on the surrounding buildings. These were weathered by the sea breezes as it was, the gold tinted black with the smoke rising in the air. Natasha felt her heart sink, hoping it wasn’t an omen she was supposed to be taking heed of.

A burst of energy shot towards the pair of them, Natasha hearing it before it hit, but it was Jane who shoved her to the ground, landing atop of her. A pale faced figure, with elves flanking him, stepped out of what seemed like thin air, one of the invisible ships having deposited them close by as Natasha had guessed. Jane’s body went rigid, her eyes narrowed and hyper-focused on the man striding towards them. Before anything could be said the ground trembled beneath them, an earthquake of sorts that Natasha had never before experienced on the realm. She took half a second to stare behind her, only to see that the carefully crafted barriers that Heimdall had set into motion had begun collapsing in on themselves. Her heart stopped.

“You have something that belongs to me, child.” The man approaching them narrowed his eyes as his stare focused in on Jane. Natasha took her by the wrist and moved to tug her behind herself, her jaw clenching. Jane wouldn’t move, the corners of her lips turning upwards in a surprised gesture of self assurity that had Natasha’s spirits starting to rise.

“It doesn’t belong to you anymore.” Jane’s voice wasn’t her own, and her hands had fisted at her sides. “Doesn’t want to go to you.”

Malekith’s teeth set in a snarl, and he thrust a hand forward. The air pulsed around them, a vacuum having gone off between the two, as though something was being sucked from where Natasha and Jane stood, silencing the sounds of the battle that had before filled the air. Jane’s feet slid forward a couple inches, but she braced herself against the sensation, toes digging into the Asgardian road, her hands placed out in front of her, clawed as though she was holding on to something that threatened to be tugged away from her. From where she stood Natasha could see the surprise flash in Malekith’s dark eyes, but she didn’t have much time to deliberate.

“Kill the other, and any Aesir you can find.” Malekith snarled to his men, his face setting in concentration as he grew near to Jane, who tensed as he did. Nat’s heart froze for half a moment, before her mind kicked into overdrive as she summoned a shield against the energy blasts that rained down. There was a weak point in their armor, just beneath the neck, and it was there that she threw what knives she could conjure while still maintaining the shield. It pulled at her concentration and her strength, already not at her very best. This attack, while anticipated, wasn’t expected, and her teeth clenched tight as she felt at her belt and found it empty.

There was little left to her shield, and at least four more elves that she hadn’t managed to get from a long range. Malekith and Jane were locked in what looked like a battle of wills and speed, Jane jumping far faster than Natasha had thought possible as Malekith came after her with a sword as long as his arm, the blade singing as it sliced through the air and fabric where she’d just been. She would throw the Aether at him as best she could manage with what Frigga had taught her, but Nat couldn’t watch what would happen for long after that. With a shout of pain she felt her shield give way, and instead took her sword into her hand and rushed the nearest elf, slicing its gun in half before sticking the sword through its abdominal armor. With its body in front of hers she used it as a second shield, using it to get close enough to take the others out even as the pulses of energy from the guns bit through the flesh with startling precision. She drew her blade across the last elf’s throat, black blood pouring over the already covered blade, when she heard a shriek that made her hair stand on end. Malekith had Jane suspended in the air, the Aether hanging between them. Natasha swore, and picked up the nearest gun to aim at the back of Malekith’s head when she was struck dumb by a familiar booming cry far off to her left. Her stomach plummeted, and it caught Malekith’s attention as well. Just as his head turned Jane let loose a laugh that contorted her whole face. Her hands, once spread out at her side, slammed together with the force of a stampede of horses, blasting Malekith back as the Aether turned on him. It cut into his flesh, setting upon him, feasting on his body as he lay on the ground and screamed. The flesh was rendered from his bones and his blood splashed over the pavement.

He stopped screaming just as Natasha turned to where the sound had come from. Her heart stuttered as over the crests of Asgard’s city a new foe appeared, this one leading a host of grey, armored beings aboard flying, horseless chariots. The Chitauri, from what she’d understood of Thor’s description of them, and at their very back she could only imagine was where they’d find Thanos. As the scouts advanced, enormous, scaled, flying leviathans pursued, circling the now defenseless city, and dropping more soldiers from its back.

The bolt of lightning struck some hundred feet from them, the beacon, and Natasha motioned for Jane to follow her as they took off running. The ground was littered with the dead, most of them dark elves Natasha was pleased to see, though they’d taken a fair share of the einherjar that had fought to defend the city. How much more death was necessary, Nat couldn’t help but wonder, before the end?

Just one, if she had her say. Just Thanos, and whatever idiots that thought they could stand in her way.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so a shorter update than normal but! I am hard at work on the next chapter already. I'm determined to finish this ASAP, I can't lie, so I'm hoping there won't be too many long waits in between updates. Thanks so much for sticking around with me through this!


	17. Blood In The Breeze

Thanos’ power had grown, as Loki had predicted, with the more stones that he collected, so much that he’d managed to reach out to pick the minds of the sorcerers of Asgard. One of them, a blonde woman that Natasha recognized as Amora, had come forward as soon as the barriers around the palace had been broken. Thanos’ connection with her had been severed as well but he’d gotten what he needed to know: the attack, the opportune moment to strike--all he’d had to do was transport his already able army into place and slip through the weak pockets between Yggdrasil to come at Asgard from behind.

“The troops posted there didn’t stand a chance to blow their horns to signal oncoming attackers,” Amora was gasping, her cheeks stained pink and her eyes enormous as she stared up at Thor. “And their numbers are too vast.”

Thor growled deeply in his chest, his eyes narrowing as he hefted Mjolnir tighter in his grip. “Did you see anything else?”

“He sides with Ronan the Accuser, and the other Kree. The Chitauri lead the invasion--.”

“I’ve got them,” Stark said. He’d landed beside Thor, and stiffened to leave. Thor’s hand around his arm stopped him.

“We need a plan.”

“I have a plan. Attack.” Stark shook him off before taking off. Nat bit her tongue as she watched him go. The great idiot. He didn’t have an eternal battery life for his suit or his reactor--she’d heard him talk about the technology on Asgard and how it was stronger than what they had on Midgard, but the density of the planet also wasn’t being taken into account, or how much more it would cost to fly for long periods of time. Not that he’d listen to her. Thor growled as he left, but at least Stark was keeping the fight concentrated in the air, catching the attention of the Chitauri scouts before they could report or attack. Natasha swore she heard a beastial bellow coming from deeper within the city, saw the flash of something green leaping into the air and off a building when a Chitauri got too close, before it was sent crashing into a nearby building, and she smiled to think that at least Banner had found a way to get his anger out while here.

Thor worked to split the remaining fighters into factions, asking that Magneto concentrate on keeping the Chitauri as far back from the city as possible while they worked to take them out. Whatever Thanos was anticipating he doubted it would be for a master of metal to be on their side. With his daughter at his side the two sped away, flanked by Cain, Mystique, and Logan. Clint was to be positioned at the tallest point he could stomach--which was saying something--to signal to the other archers when and where to fire, with Amora to shield him and strengthen his voice so that they could hear him. At least the benefit to the city would be that there were a great deal of places for the archers to gain the vantage point, or else find cover when they needed. It raised Natasha’s spirits, if only a little.

Jane stumbled where she’d stood at Natasha’s side, catching the redhead’s attention immediately, reaching out a hand to steady her companion, and tried to move her to the side and away from the direct line of action. Jane’s eyes drooped as Nat wrapped an arm around her. “Hey, take deep breaths,” Natasha murmured, feeling the woman’s pulse quickening, careening out of control. She needed to keep focused. “We practiced this, remember? It’s just the extra energy--.” There was an explosion that hit a couple feet off to their right and Thor looked back at the pair of them. Worry flashed on his face, and for the first time Nat took a good look at him. He had spatterings of black blood down the side of his face, but didn’t seem to be hurt at all.

“Does she need to go inside with the others?”

“I’m fine,” Jane gasped, and when her eyes opened again they were deep, Aether red. A good sign, Natasha supposed. “Just point me in the direction.”

That they could do. Those who remained stuck to the ground where they could, and as the Chitauri advanced both on foot and above--Stark and Hulk doing what they could to take them out when the opportunities arose--Natasha didn’t think they’d run out of opponents. It wasn’t exactly a comfort, but they would make the best of it that they could. Using her blades to deflect what shots she could, she struggled to get another shield in front of her. Jane was having better luck, and as she thrust her arms forward, palms out in front of her, the Aether responded with shooting tentacles of energy in the direction of the attackers flying above. Their chariots careened into buildings as the bodies of their riders fell, dead, to the ground, but there would always be a chance to rebuild.

Those that were on the ground were easier to handle, and Natasha found that their armor was weakest beneath the chins as had been with the Dark Elves. While the elves had been crafty, knowing just where to shoot to bring down an Aesir, the Chitauri kept clumsily attacking the shields, as though hoping that through a rapid succession of shots they might hit something. Their necks were fragile as well, Natasha found, after one had pushed her to the ground and she’d kicked up at it hard enough to snap its neck. Its grey body fell with a heavy thud to the ground, and she grabbed the gun-spear that it had been fighting with, holstering her own weapons.

She aimed and shot, glad to see that their armor didn’t make them impervious to their own weapons, as she took down a couple that way, forced to give up where she was standing in order to duck and dodge a shot coming back her way. It took her a couple feet closer, allowing her to land a kick to the nearest Chitauri’s gut, and bury her sword into its throat, but another shot very nearly missed her leg. She cursed inwardly and returned fire.

Still, it didn’t matter how many she took out. Wave after wave continued to come at them, the leviathans screaming as they cut through buildings, their armored wings knocking through the stone and metal as though it was wet paper. What was more, she’d heard of the Kree, heard of their fighting prowess. Thanos was wearing them down with the pawns, with the sheer number of them, before he’d send in the real fighters. It made sense. Odin had done the same thing, she remembered, and the memory burned hard in her chest. She’d been pulled from one home, watched it destroyed, and now she would face the same--if not worse--if they didn’t win. It made things simple when she thought about it from that perspective, and she pushed on.

 

The elves had moved to side with Thanos as well, not wishing to be caught on what they considered to be the losing end, but their numbers had significantly dwindled. Natasha, Jane, and Thor caught a few of them as they ran towards the Titan’s forces, but even that wasn’t necessarily enough to save them. Whether caught in the crossfire between the Chitauri, who didn’t seem to recognize them as ally, or obliterated in the crumbling city, they hardly added a significant presence to the fighting forces. More of a distraction, really, though it had the potential to turn deadly.

The first of the Kree were beginning to show up as well. Gamora, who’d fought at their side, snarled to see a pair of blue figures making their way towards the inner city that they were trying to keep protected. One of the figures was tall, wielding an enormous, long-staffed black hammer that Natasha wouldn’t have been amazed if it could’ve cracked the pavement open beneath them. The other was shorter, lithe, a thick purple stripe running down the center of her face as she stared with black eyes that seemed to stare into Natasha’s very soul. She suppressed a shudder as Gamora took off running for the woman, shouting: “NEBULA!” as her green skin rocketed past them all, blades out and at the ready.

Which left Ronan, as Natasha had come to recognize him, for the rest of them. He grinned, leaving the two women to fight it out, before turning his hammer to the others.

“There’s no need for this further bloodshed.” His voice resounded through the small clearing they’d found themselves occupying, stepping over the dead Chitauri, Einherjar, and Dark Elves that littered the ground. “Lay down your weapons, surrender to Thanos, and you may still be granted your lives.”

Thor had come to stand at Natasha’s side, Jane with the rest of the company. and he grew stiff at the demands. Teeth bared, and eyes narrowed, he looked over to Natasha for the quickest of seconds. She shook her head as subtly as she could manage, and with a shout that echoed, Thor was the first to lead the charge towards Ronan, Natasha hot on his heels. The Chitauri surged forward as well, guns forgotten, fists meeting with armor and weapons. More than once Natasha caught sight of Thor taking on Ronan by himself, and her heart jumped to choke her, before a close call with a blade or fist would capture her attention once more.

Her muscles ached, she was bleeding from somewhere near her temples where a fist had caught her unaware, and there was a wound in her left leg from a stray shot that hurt when she put too much pressure onto it. It would heal, quickly too she hoped, soldiering on and trying to make her way closer to the fighting pair.

There came a crashing cry from behind that took her off guard, resulting in the blade at the tip of the nearest Chitauri’s spear slicing her right thigh. She swore and grabbed it by the helmet, pulling it downwards as she forced the blade in her right hand into his face until the hilt met its skin. As she shoved it away from her she turned, catching sight of a flash of green, gold, and black, followed closely behind by a mass of shouting, enormous blue giants. The Jotnar crashed through the city with little regard, but with one fell swoop of the nearest’s arm, covered in barbed ice, half a dozen Chitauri went with it. Natasha’s heart leapt as, hot on their heels, she heard the sound of hooves and the shouts of the Disir joined the air, their spears drawn, faces gaunt and mouths pulled into wide snarls. They swept through on the outskirts of the city, cutting off the other side of the Chitauri to keep them from getting any closer.

Loki stopped at Natasha’s side, lip split, but grinning all the same.

“King Katrik regrets to inform you that he won’t be joining us, but I did get this.” He held out his hand, a green shaped gem in the shape of a crescent in his gloved palm. An infinity stone. It seemed to be eating at the leather of his glove, but he didn’t seem worried about it. She would’ve kissed him if she hadn’t heard Thor’s familiar shout, both of their heads snapping, in unison, towards where he’d disappeared within the confusion.

Ronan had him by the throat and was tightening his grip as they watched, Mjolnir nowhere in sight as Thor’s hands clawed at the Kree’s hands. The man was grinning, his black teeth displayed between thick black lips, and before Natasha could think--could breathe--Loki had left her side. She shouted, but the noise was lost in the thick of the battle, only able to chase after him, catching sight of gold and black as it whipped through the legs of the fighting giants and drew closer to his brother. As she pushed her way past one of the passing warriors she watched as Thor was dropped to the ground, gasping, back arching as his lungs struggled to work, and Loki’s scepter crashed as it came into contact with Ronan’s hammer. There was the grating of metal against metal as they shoved apart, then collided once more. Loki’s hands were empty, she saw, and swore that as she saw the scepter part the air she caught sight of something green glinting in the space just between the two blades.

She thought of picking up one of the fallen Chitauri weapons, of trying to fire and hit Ronan while he was unsuspecting, but there was too high of a possibility of striking Loki as well that she didn’t dare risk it. There wasn’t much else she could do besides watch, and even then that was only done in between avoiding blows herself, ducking under the fist of one of the brigands that Thanos had brought with him--a man with tusks as thick as her wrist sprouting from just under his helmet, a sellsword who found Thanos’ price to be far more agreeable to whatever else his life had to offer, she guessed. He was far better at combat than she was pleased to find out, a fist landing a blow in her abdomen that she was certain cracked a rib or two. Air was difficult to come by, and she let out a shout as she shoved back against him with her magic. There was a crack as his neck snapped backwards with the force of her blow. In the corner of her eyes she caught sight of one of the Disir catching another vagabond by the throat and lifting him towards her mouth, sucking the soul from its very lips before dumping the discarded body to the ground and wheeling her horse around to carry on towards the next one. Whatever Loki had promised them, Natasha hoped that he’d clearly defined who it was they were allowed to do that to.

There came a bolt of light that caught Natasha’s attention, as well as those who were close enough, blinding any who looked directly into it as the entire earth pulsed, shoving those nearest back to the ground. Natasha included. She landed with a shout of pain, her arm twisted wrong beneath her, but couldn’t stop herself from sitting up and blinking to remove the stars from her eyes.

Where Ronan had stood now remained a husk, the armor of the enormous man collapsing without its owner to keep it upright. Loki and Thor were both blown back by the force, and Thor gaped at the painfully bright gem still glowing from its place within the center of the weapon.

Scrambling to get upright once more, Natasha hurried towards the pair of them, sinking to her knees to figure out just what had happened, when Clint’s voice filled the shocked silence.

“Hey, everyone, we’ve got movement coming in just behind Thanos’ armies. Not sure what the hell it might be, but you might want to get someone out there to check it out for sure. We’re not expecting more company, are we? Because they’re coming out of the mountains--.”

“Hreidmar is honoring his oath,” Thor said, his face flashing with hope, attention drawn from the scepter as he stood slowly, Loki following suit as he aided Natasha up. “Brother, did I not tell you that they would come through in the end?”

“Don’t you dare curse the campaign, we’re far from done, yet.” Loki spat, his eyes narrowed. But the howl that came from the other side of the city perked him up, his eyes alight as he turned to watch an enormous wolf bound towards them. As it grew closer it transformed smoothly, cleanly, into Fenrir, the man grinning and decked in the same armor that Natasha had seen him in. In his wake came the remnants of Vanaheim’s armies, armed to the teeth and fury burning in their eyes.

“Hope we didn’t miss all the fun,” Fenrir said, stopping beside the three of them. “You saved some for the rest of us, didn’t you? Already made short work of Jerome’s paltry forces.”

Nat could’ve kissed him, nodding swiftly. “We’ve still got Thanos, and the Other that keeps his company.”

“Then what in the Nine are we doing standing around waiting for him to come to us?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hard at work for the next chapter--hope you enjoyed this update! Sorry it's not longer.


	18. We Too Shall Rest

In their haste to get to Thanos, she’d lost track of Fenrir and Loki, and Thor had propelled himself forward to take on those who surrounded the Titan. Jane had hung back to deal with those on the perimeter, any who sought to take advantage of the army’s back being turned to them, and so it left Natasha at Emma’s side, with Anna-Marie just up ahead using her power to get into the enemy’s head through the intelligence given to the pawns that they’d sent forward. For the most part there didn’t seem to be much to be learned; Thanos was too clever to tell all of his men just what was happening, and so they worked to cut down as many as they could, marauder and Kree, remaining Skrull and Chitauri alike. She needed to get up ahead, though, needed to check on the rest of her people, to see just what else needed to be done. Clint was still shouting formations that were coming from Thanos’ army, but with so many of their own forces flanking him and cutting him off, she didn’t suppose he stood much of a chance.

The appearance of the Other, however, was a surprise. She felt him, felt the sickness that seemed to crawl on his skin, before she saw him, and it was only because of that that she managed to duck low enough to avoid the scythe that would’ve otherwise cut her in half. He shifted to the side when she aimed her own blade at where his legs had been, wicked fast and difficult to pin down, and she had to drop and roll off to the side to avoid the downward slash of his blade once again. She ended in a crouch, toes digging into the dirt, lips twisted in a snarl as she stared up at the husk of a man. His face might’ve been hidden behind a mask but she could see a growl of displeasure already contorting his mouth.

“You have been nothing but a thorn in the side of myself and Thanos since your creation,” he spat, voice a contorted concoction of fury and exhaustion that she thought she could play on, even as he whiped the scythe around his body, using his own form so that the blade created a whirlwind around him that forced her to flip backwards in order to avoid it. When he tried to bring it crashing down on her once more she brought her blades forward and caught the curved edge with them, teeth bared and eyes bright.

“Should’ve tried harder to kill me, then,” she mouthed off, and with a swift step forward she aimed a kick at his shin that ought to have brought him down. Emma and Anna-Marie were both busy with their own fights, so there would be no back-up, and the Other missed the blow with ease. He twirled it with his hands, the blade little more than a shimmer, and this time she didn’t get out of the way quick enough. As he brought the inner curve of it towards her waist she managed to stop it with her swords, teeth gritted hard as she struggled to hold it off, to keep it from cutting her in half as the Other had been instructed to do. He pushed harder, and she watched with horror as the blade inched closer and closer to her cut, the tip of it catching on her side and tearing horizontally when she finally summoned the strength to shove the blade away. A muffled shout left her mouth even as she backed away, feeling blood ooze from the cut. It was an inch or so deep, not near as bad as it could’ve been, but there was something different about this injury, something that had her blinking rapidly every so often. The Other grinned, pointing the scythe at her as he stood far back enough away that she wouldn’t be able to get a close shot in.

“There’s a poison on this blade that stops your nerves from working properly. Even now it travels in your bloodstream. A mortal like you isn’t going to last much longer.” He lifted the scythe, the blade now on level with her throat, and all she could find the strength to do was stumble away. The world was shifting, spinning, and she hated herself for getting so weak. Felt the reality of the situation hitting her. “But it’s not a chance I’m willing to take.”

He brought the blade up, over his head, and she saw her chance for a split second before it happened. Her brain was just hardly able to recognize it, this one last weakness, and she felt the knife materialize in her hand before she’d made the conscious decision to summon it into being. The handle left her hand, and the blade stuck hard in the Other’s throat with a sickening glug of blood and bone and muscle being torn open. His footsteps faltered, and she stumbled backwards just in time for the scythe to drop from his hands, the blade planted in the ground where she’d been just moments before. She heard her name being shouted, felt the blood pooling in her shoe, and watched the Other collapse to the ground--dead--before she pitched backwards.

 

Her head pounded as light snuck its way past the closure of her eyelids, and her dry mouth opened to let out a soft, noncommittal grunt of displeasure. There was no pain, which worried her the most, because the numbness, along with not being able to open her eyes, was never a good sign. Her fingers felt out where she was--lying down, on something soft, hopefully sheets, with a cool breeze on her face--and they reached up to try and pry her eyes open. If they could not find the strength enough to do it, then she would do it for them.

“Don’t do that, just relax my love,” Loki’s voice came from her left, or was it her right? She turned her head to the side, trying to find him, to feel him out but could only make out his voice.

She hoped this wasn’t death. That he hadn’t died as well. They couldn’t have lost, could they? She felt hands encase her own, felt the chill of his skin against her own heated flesh and took comfort in it. Slowly, torturously slowly to be frank, she managed to inch her eyes open. Her lips cracked as she smiled up at Loki, trying to form words but finding she didn’t have any to spare. As she became more aware of the world the pain began to set in. Her bones ached, but more than that there was a sharp, stabbing sensation in her side that caused her to groan, eyes screwing up once more with tears as it got worse.

“Loki you have to keep her focused on you, you can’t let her slip away.” A voice was saying from a different side of her, she couldn’t tell where at the moment. The pain was getting worse, the fire of it spreading through her very being as Loki’s hands cupped the sides of her face and forced her eyes open in surprise.

“Nat--Natasha stay with me. Stay with me please,” he begged. She hardly ever heard him beg, and it wasn’t a good sound to come from his lips. There were tears in the corners of her eyes that disfigured his face, elongated the sorrow in his eyes. She could smell fear dripping from his every pore and no that wasn’t right, she shouldn’t have been able to do that, but there it was anyway.

“Hurts--make it stop hurting, please.” Her throat was raw, from what she had no idea, but it felt like blood coated her esophagus. This was worse than what she’d dealt with at the Red Room’s hands, worse than the agony of having lost her child. It was taking her apart piece by piece, inch by inch, filleting her alive with a fire-coated knife, and she just wanted it to stop. She was turned on her side before much else could be said, and there were curse words muttered behind her as she continued to stare at Loki, to beg him to end it. The edges of her vision were going white and every time she blinked to try and clear her sight tears tracked down the side of her face.

“Just a little bit longer, my love. Just a little longer.”

“No, make it stop,” she could hardly speak any longer, the words fragmenting on her lips as she coughed and her whole body trembled with the movement. The white was growing, getting worse, as the fire spread to her lungs and she couldn’t catch her breath--she couldn’t--she couldn’t!

“Her heart is going too fast, we have to stop this.”

“I’m almost done--almost there,” a female voice was saying softly.

“End this now, you’re killing her!” Thor boomed, and the noise made her start, her eyes widening and focusing in on Loki’s terrified gaze, taking in the blood that’d dried and caked on the left side of his face, the gaunt terror that played over his face.

“I’m almost done--there!”

Natasha’s scream echoed as she swore she felt a dagger, or a blade of some sort, stuck into her back, and Loki’s hands scrambled to take hers, holding them tight as she tensed, body locked as the pain flared white-hot behind her eyes. She didn’t know how long she stayed like that, only that she couldn’t find it in her to breathe, and her lungs were screaming for fresh air. She was suffocating, truly dying. A hand hit her high up on her back, knocking air into her body as she gasped, and just like that the bubble was popped. She sucked in air with a ferocity and a need she’d never known before, her body relaxing as soon as fresh air filled her body and her head swam with it. She blinked slowly, focusing and watching how Loki’s face broke into a grateful, amazed smile

“Thank the Norns,” he muttered as he leaned in to kiss her forehead, lingering so that she felt his own tears of relief trickle down his face and hit her skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I promise this isn't the very end! There's more coming, we'll find out what happened with Thanos and Katrik and Oded and everyone in the next chapter(s)--depending on their length. But the rest of it just wouldn't have fit in this same chapter. Thank you so much for reading!


	19. Vortex

The toxin that the Other had gotten into her bloodstream left a nasty scar behind, and they’d had to graft new skin onto hers after Eir and her healers had successfully managed to get the poison out. Two days later and she was back to normal, and the scar was nothing more than another to add to her vast collection of them. In those two days Thor and Loki both came to stay incessantly with her, hardly leaving her alone except for when she explicitly asked for it, needing a break from all the attention and the hubbub. Between the two of them they’d taken on Thanos, and with his scepter, newly powered by the mind gem, Loki had taken off the Titan’s gauntlet covered hand, letting it flop to the ground. With it went Thanos’ power and strength, and his forces soon bent the knee as well. The Chitauri were the worst off, having refused to surrender and so had been slaughtered by the Disir and dwarves, while the Vanir and Jotunar took care of the Kree, returning them to their home only once they’d sworn to a peace treaty, the decimation of their race on the line should they break it.

Thanos was held, sedated and under strict, close supervision, deeper in the dungeons than even Oded was being kept. Natasha had sworn to see to Oded and his family should they not have helped, though Loki had done business with them the last she’d known and had gotten the mind gem. She hoped that Katrik didn’t assume that would make things right, but was waiting on his reply. Injured or not, there was still a great deal to be done. Commemorative feasts and rites were held each night for those who had been lost, and the as the final death tallies were counted up Natasha felt her heart sink, but the darkness was finally done away with. Thanos was set to face a tribunal for his crimes, comprised of the Queen Regent of Vanaheim, Thor, Loki, and Hreidmar, and then afterwards Oded would have the same justice offered to him should Katrik not sue for peace. Part of her hoped he wouldn’t, that he’d let his son face the penalty for the attempted rape of a woman, a queen none the less. She wanted to see the hope go out of his eyes when he realized no one was coming to save him.

She’d been having moments like that far more often, she realized with a shake of her head, looking up from where she’d been staring at the same page of a book while her mind had gone astray, Loki seated just next to her, enjoying a rare slice of peace. The violence in her mind, the desire for blood, for retribution . . . . She’d thought that the battle would slake it, do away with her need for action once and for all, that once things were made right she’d be able to return to the peace she’d been hoping for, but it didn’t look likely. The shake had caught Loki’s attention, and he pressed his palm into her own, frowning.

“Is everything alright?” His green eyes, for he kept his Aesir glamor up when he was on Asgard, seemed to bore into her soul. Her mouth went dry with the question. Was it? Would it ever be?

“I don’t feel, I don’t feel like myself,” she finally murmured, closing the book in her lap and gripping the edges of it tight. “I thought it might go away once Thanos was done, and perhaps it will take me seeing his headless body falling to the ground but--.” There she went, being hyper violent again. She swallowed thickly and bent her head, unable to look at him. A warrior society this might’ve been but these were times of peace. When all she knew was war, how was she supposed to adjust?

“I feel the same strain.” Loki’s hand wrapped around her closest one, folding their fingers together as he tipped her chin upwards. “It doesn’t feel as though it was enough, as though justice has been done. Right?”

“Exactly. I feel like there’s more that ought to be done. That now the world just . . . we don’t have a mission, don’t have a target. What do we do?”

He leaned over to press a kiss to her forehead, keeping quiet as he mused to himself. “We continue to make the realms as safe as we can. We rebuild, we fortify what we can, and we keep a vigilant eye to ensure that this never happens again. There are still marauders, and still those who would seek to do harm to who they perceive as weaker. We find them, and stop them.”

That sounded fitting, and at least he had a plan. She smiled, and tipped her face up to kiss him gently. “I love you. I love both of you, you know that don’t you?”

“Of course.” He mirrored her smile and pressed a hand to the side of her cheek. “And we love you as well. It will all turn out in the end. You’ll see.”

 

She sat in on Thanos’ tribunal, keeping to the side to keep the attention from herself as she watched the Titan being led in. His sedatives were wearing off, his dark eyes growing more focused as he stared at the four figures in front of him, a plethora of guards surrounding him to take the man down should he try anything. That was all he was now, without the gauntlet. Without the power, or death’s favor. He was just a man.

“You seek to cow me into submission by this show of strength?” His voice was a deep rumble that made her bones rattle and pained her chest. Frigga, who sat at her side, clutched at Natasha’s hands, knuckles white. Nat knew how the Queen Mother longed to drive her own dagger through the bastard’s heart, and Nat would’ve been all too happy to help her accomplish the task. He was the reason behind all their suffering, their pain. And he would pay for it all very soon.

“There’s not an ounce of submissive nature in your body, Thanos,” Thor boomed, having taken his position as head tribunal member as the king of Asgard. To his left sat Loki, whose red eyes were narrowed into crimson slits. The Disir, who’d stuck around at his request, hissed and snarled from their place just behind the council members, keeping them safe. No security measure was too great for this man. “You are here to be tried for your crimes against the realms, and the galaxy as a whole. Do you deny what you have done?”

“How could I when you seem fit to already keep me no matter what?” Thanos’ lips twisted into a smirk. “You have an objective in mind, Odinson. Be done with this farce and make your demands of me.”

“We have no demands other than your head on a pike.”

Thanos’ face contorted, and he made to stand up and step closer, his left arm hand-less and hanging, limp and useless at his side. The blades of several Einherjar as well as other guards were immediately pointed at his chest, throat, wherever it was they could, and the Disir tensed behind the council.

“Then be done with it,” Thanos growled once more. “If you have the courage to swing the axe, do as you will. You are a king now, boy.” He sneered, derision dripping from his words. “Do it.”

“We will see this tribunal through to the end,” Thor said, voice ringing absolute as Thanos was forced to take his seat once more. It went rather quickly, the council hearing the many crimes that Thanos had committed, and finding him guilty of all charges. The penalty of death was proffered, and accepted, and all the while Thanos sat and glowered, gnashing his teeth together. He couldn’t so much as shift without the guard reacting, but the council members stayed absolute in their fearlessness of him. Natasha was just glad it would all be over soon.

Oded was brought in once Thanos had finished, the titan led back into the dungeons where he would wait for the next three days before being led to the square. The fire prince did not go easily to the seat where Thanos had once sat, fighting against the chains that kept his hands together in front of his chest and connected around the waist. The torc burned as he struggled to fight against its properties, and Natasha’s spine straightened as he looked across to her and snarled.

“I demand to speak with my father! I recognize no other authority but his own.”

“Your father does not wish to speak with you. You have cast shame upon your family with your actions.” Loki spoke now, his voice cool and his gaze subzero. “We will hear from Queen Natasha of Jotunheim about what you have done.”

“You listen to your mortal whore over me? I am a prince!”

“You were a prince,” the Queen Regent of Vanaheim said with a snarl of her own, holding up a piece of paper upon which were scrawled words too small to be legible from where Natasha had stood. The Queen read them out: “I Katrik of Muspelheim, being of sound mind and body, strip Oded Katrikson of his titles and lands, renounce him as my heir, and place his fate into the hands of his victims. Let his punishment serve as a lesson to all who seek to travel the same, shameful path as he. Signed, Katrik Oberson, King of Muspelheim. If you wish to read it yourself, I offer it to you but we have verified the signature and the tribunal recognize that it is authentic.”

The color left Oded’s face, and his eyes widened with horror as he stared at the four of them in turn. “There must be some mistake--.”

“There is no mistake. But we will hear no more of you,” Hreidmar said, voice like rocks scraping against one another. It was a mark of how seriously Loki took his task that he wasn’t shrinking away from the dwarf king on his left. “Natasha, my dear. Come forward.”

She did, footsteps light and heart heavy as she moved closer. They heard her story with passive faces, heard from Heimdall who further testified to the truth of it, having seen what had happened before he’d called her back with Oded hot on her heels, and Thor testified as well to the manner in which he’d found the two, Natasha fighting back against the man, Oded the aggressor. For his crime it was suggested that he might be hung, and that his body be left in the square as proof, but Natasha cleared her throat at the Queen’s suggestion.

“If I might?” She offered, heart thudding in her chest. “Send his body to his father. Let him make the proper funeral arrangements and services. It wouldn’t do well to start a war with Muspelheim over something that can be so easily avoided. Leave it to the king of the realm to decide what is to be done with it.”

Hreidmar gave a murmur of approval, and the matter was closed after that, Oded led away visibly trembling and shouting himself hoarse trying to demand sanctuary, safety, anything. No one would give it to him.

  
Natasha all but collapsed in her chambers once she found her way back, exhausted and drawn, as though she’d just fought in a second battle, but her mind wouldn’t stop, wouldn’t allow her to rest. Something was missing, and she thought about calling for Thor and Loki to come visit her, but that wasn’t it. A part of her chest ached for what . . . she wasn’t entirely sure. When it did hit her, hard as a brick to the back of her head, she asked one of the servants to fetch the Queen Regent to her, needing to ask a boon. She’d promised the child’s mother that she’d look after him, and now she finally had the opportunity to. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so there's one chapter left--the epilogue, then this great and terrible fic will be done! Thank you all so much for taking the time to read this, and the two previous, it's been a hell of a ride. I can't write a whole lot right now on account of I'm heading into work, but I'll have a much longer author's note at the end of the next chapter. I'll try and finish that ASAP. Love you all!


	20. Epilogue--So All Must Be Well

“Alexei, wait up,” Natasha called out, hiking her skirts up as she chased after the young child, laughing as she chased him through the high grasses at the very back of the palace. On her back she felt Thor and Loki’s eyes, the pair of them standing on the edge of Frigga’s courtyard, and she could hear their good natured laughter as Alexei zig-zagged through the grass.

Four years had passed since the fires had burned in the forests and mountains, since Thanos had sought to swallow the galaxy with his greed. Four years since his head had been placed on a pike to rot, since Natasha had watched burning boats glide with the bodies of her friends before their souls were taken up to Valhalla. 

Four years since she’d asked the queen of Vanaheim about Alexei, and had adopted him as her, Loki, and Thor’s. It’d never been done before, a joint king for two realms, but with the three of them behind the child she couldn’t imagine they wouldn’t be able to figure it out. Up ahead, on wobbly legs that grew stronger with every passing day, Alexei giggled and hurtled forward, looking over his shoulders at Natasha as she came closer. From further in the grass Fenrir’s head swiveled to watch him, golden eyes bemused before he, too, joined in chasing after the small prince. Alexei’s shouts for his puppy always made Natasha want to snort, having seen just what that “puppy” could do, but it was a relief to have him so close to her family. To know that they were protected, no matter what. Her nightmares might’ve ended two years ago, and it might’ve taken her an extra one to get used to that idea, but it would get there.

Somehow she had a feeling that everything was going to work out just fine.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's all there is folks. Thank you all a million and one times over for sticking with me through the bear of this fic. It's been a hell of a ride, filled with a ton of road blocks and excitement, frustration and confusion at just what the hell /I/ was even doing, but I have to say it's all completely worth it. Maybe one day I'll revisit what I've written, clean it up and make it a little more cohesive [I swear to goodness there are more loose ends on this than a fraying t-shirt] but I'm just gonna sit back and be proud of what I have done.   
> As ever, much of my thanks go to Jessy, wolves_and_girls/RomanovasLedger, for providing me with the prompt and the drive and the desire to write this monster of a trilogy. Girl, I dunno what I'd do without you, but I'm so glad I've met you.   
> Thanks again, guys! You're all so amazing.

**Author's Note:**

> If you are interested, there is also a fanmix that accompanies this fic!  
> Found here: http://8tracks.com/futurerustfuture-dust/speak-of-grace


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